Dark Child
by kisskissthis
Summary: After the death of Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy takes over his place in the Death Eater’s inner circle. Draco’s first task is to get Hermione Granger as a pawn by seducing her and getting her pregnant with his child.
1. Chapter 1

**Summary:** After the death of Lucius Malfoy, Draco Malfoy takes over his place in the  
Death Eater's inner circle. Draco's first task is to get Hermione Granger as a pawn by  
seducing her and getting her pregnant with his child. The need for siring a child is to ensure  
Hermione's permanent bond to the Dark Side. It is not an easy task to begin with, but  
emotions, pride, and Ron Weasley make things even more complicated. Worse, Voldemort  
has other horrible plans for Hermione and the child which nobody knows, not even Draco.  
If the plans push through, it will be the ultimate downfall of Harry Potter and the Light Side.

**Disclaimer: **This story is based on characters and situations created and owned by JK  
Rowling, various publishers including but not limited to Bloomsbury Books, Scholastic Books  
and Raincoast Books, and Warner Bros., Inc. No money is being made and no copyright or  
trademark infringement is intended.

**A/N:** Please review so I'll know if my story was able to entertain you even if for just a little  
while. Flames are welcome so I can improve my story.

**Content warning: **This story is rated **M** for a reason. This chapter is just rated PG, but some  
of the later chapters have sexual content, but still well within the bounds of an R rating. Be  
reminded that the characters are older here, so they deal with mature stuff. If you do not like  
to see the characters that way, then do not read this. You've been warned.

**Dark Child**

by bohemian vixen

_**Chapter 1**_

'_You'd think that after his father died, he would change. Possibly become mellow,_  
_subdued…maybe become soft in the least bit. But no, he's much worse. The Malfoy_  
_blood reigns supreme in his veins,' _Hermione thought of Draco Malfoy bitterly. It was  
Saturday, and late in the afternoon, she had been walking towards the library when she  
bumped into Malfoy, and as usual, this was met by a trademark Malfoy insult. However,  
his insult today was one of the worst she had ever heard from him.

"Watch where you're going, you filthy Mudblood," Draco snarled.

"I've heard that a million times before, Malfoy," Hermione retorted while she picked up her books  
from the floor. "Couldn't you be more creative?" Hermione stood up and looked straight into his eyes.

Malfoy did not miss a beat. "Well, well, well. Granger is becoming a smartass lately, hasn't she? Must  
be an effect of being Head Girl," he sneered. "It suits you, a dirt like you talking dirt. You must have  
gotten that from your muggle father. As much as I wish my father were still alive, I'm grateful that I have  
a dead pureblood for a father than a living muggle one. Then again, your father may not live that much  
longer." He gave a low, hollow laugh.

Hermione felt as if Malfoy punched her in the face. She was shocked and furious. She  
could take insults against her, but not insults directed to her family and friends, especially  
her family—her family who had never meddled with the business of the wizarding world.  
On top of it all, Malfoy implied a threat targeted at her father!

"Never bring my family into this, Malfoy, or else I also won't spare your father. I'll say things against him  
that will make him turn over in his grave. And I'd die first before you or anybody from the Dark Side  
get within a one-mile radius from my family. " Hermione surprised herself with the viciousness in her voice.  
She was really angry because her brain, for once, could not keep up with her mouth. "If you have any  
insecurity about your pathetic excuse for a family, don't lash it out on mine."

Hermione was a bit horrified. That was below the belt. She sounded like a female Draco Malfoy. But then  
again, that Malfoy started it. And she meant every word she said, even if she thought that she should have  
kept them to herself.

Hermione discreetly clutched at her wand, anticipating curses from him. But Malfoy's lips ever so slowly  
formed that signature smirk of his. "Granger, you're getting better at it with each passing day." His eyes  
lingered over her face, his lips frozen with that smirk. Hermione thought "it" meant her ability to insult, but  
as Malfoy took one step backward and surveyed her lazily from head to toe, she was not really sure what  
"it" meant.

She stood there, frozen and uneasy under his steely gaze, which seemed to appraise her.

"Watch your back, Granger. What you don't know can actually hurt you," Malfoy hissed. The next thing  
she knew, Malfoy walked past her and paced leisurely, not glancing back at all.

An hour had passed since that encounter, and now she was sitting at one of the tables at  
the back of the library. She should be reading the book about Advanced Transfiguration  
that was lying open in front of her, but Hermione kept replaying the scene in her head.  
Somehow she found it odd not to hear Malfoy say things like _"You don't have the right_  
_to speak the Malfoy name in vain" _or something along that line. It was not like him not  
to retort back.

Not that she thought Malfoy became less horrible than he always was. In fact, what she was  
thinking was contrary to that. She realized that all these years, she had always been annoyed  
and irritated, and most of the time, furious, at Malfoy. But as far as she could remember, she  
had never been scared of him. She always thought of Malfoy as a spineless, petty spoiled  
brat, whose bark was worse than his bite. But she had not been scared of him. Voldemort  
was someone she was scared of, but not Malfoy…until now.

There was something in his eyes that told her Malfoy had grown up, and that he had no  
time for petty exchanges…because he had moved on to something else. There was a glint  
in his eyes that made him look like the devil himself. If Malfoy had been horrible before,  
now Malfoy seemed…evil. Hermione had a very strong hunch that she was right. For that,  
she was scared as much as she hated to admit it even to herself.

At the back of her mind she knew that her hunch had a basis. When Mr. Malfoy died at  
the hands of some Aurors early this year, Draco Malfoy inherited the Malfoy Manor and  
his father's wealth. And she was sure that after graduation from Hogwarts, Malfoy would  
also inherit his father's place at the inner circle of Death Eaters. Voldemort had risen when  
they were in fourth year. It had been three years since then. Voldemort was now stronger,  
more powerful, and had more followers. So far, there was no all-out war yet in the wizarding  
world. Things were still generally peaceful and normal, but there had been more and more  
"isolated" cases of terrorism and killings by members of the Dark Side. Lives had been  
lost—lives of both muggles and magic folk.

Anytime soon, a war would definitely break out. It would be just a matter of time. The  
good side would not give in to Voldemort without a fight, and Voldemort and his Death  
Eater cronies would never stop in their quest for domination…and that quest included  
annihilating muggles and "mudbloods" so that only "purebloods" could live and reign.

Hermione's brain processed her thoughts one by one and something became clear to her.

Malfoy hated her ever since they met—their hatred for each other was no secret. She  
was what Malfoy called a "mudblood". She was Harry's friend. Voldemort was Harry's  
archenemy.

Voldemort and the Death Eaters had killed many people, especially "mudbloods".

Malfoy would soon become a Death Eater, and a part of no less than the inner circle of  
Voldemort.

Malfoy now had the money, power, connections, and influence in his hands to do anything  
and get away with it. And when he would eventually become a Death Eater, he would have  
more of those things.

And they, she and Malfoy, were both here at Hogwarts.

They, a Death Eater in-the-making and a "mudblood", were at the same place, for crying  
out loud.

Of course, she had always believed that Malfoy would end up being a Death Eater in the  
future. But that future was just a few months away, right after graduation.

She did not dare admit it to herself, but she definitely had a reason to be afraid.

But Hermione, the ever logical thinker, brushed those thoughts away, convincing herself that  
everything was just paranoia brought about by stress with the coming final exams.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice penetrated Hermione's morbid train of thoughts.

"How did you know I'm here?" Hermione asked rather absently, not casting so much as  
a glance at Ron.

"Duh, Hermione. You aren't expecting me to answer that, are you? You know what they  
say, ask a stupid question, get a stupid answer," Ron said, rolling his eyes and smiling  
good-naturedly.

She looked up at Ron. His appearance have changed—he was now taller, well-built, and  
handsome in an unconventional way (with his standout fiery red hair and sprinkle of freckles).  
Some girls thought of his unpredictable temperament as appealing. But despite of the change  
in appearance, he was as sarcastic as he had always been. After almost seven years of  
friendship with Ron, she had grown quite used to his sarcasm. She had grown rather fond  
of it, to be exact.

"And what's that supposed to mean?" Hermione asked, even though she knew very well  
what Ron meant.

"You know very well what I mean. Your relationship with the library is practically an  
institution. I rely more on you being found in the library than on the sun rising everyday."  
Ron said, chuckling.

"You also know very well that _that_ is an exaggeration. But I won't argue with you because  
I know that you've got an endless supply of sarcastic comebacks. It's useless to fight back.  
I rest my case." Hermione smiled. Ron had a mock horrified expression on his face. Usually,  
Hermione and Ron bantered good-naturedly, but tonight she did not feel like thinking up of  
comebacks. She had other thoughts in her mind at that moment.

"Why are you looking for me, then?" she questioned.

"It's dinnertime. Harry and I figured you lost track of the time because you were so  
enraptured with schoolwork, no less with Arithmancy," Ron said, noting the open book  
on the table.

"It's Transfiguration, not Arithmancy."

"What difference does it make?" Ron said dismissively. "Let's go to the Great Hall now,  
or else all we'll end up with is pudding!" Ron said excitedly, obviously imagining all kinds  
of gourmet food and drinks he would consume after a tiring afternoon of playing Quidditch  
for recreation with some Gryffindor and Ravenclaw guys.

'_What difference does it make?! WHAT DIFFERENCE DOES IT MAKE?! Ron is_  
_hopeless,''_ Hermione thought incredulously. "Where's Harry?" Hermione asked Ron,  
who was giddy with impatience from waiting for Hermione.

"I let him go ahead to the Great Hall. He was a bit pissed off because the Gryffindor  
Quidditch team wasn't motivated much with his pep talk this afternoon. The players  
wanted a day off today but Harry insisted for a practice," Ron explained. "Harry used  
to complain about Oliver Wood's obsession with winning, but now that Harry's captain,  
he's just as obsessed as Wood then! I don't blame him, though. The next game is versus  
Slytherin, and no way should Malfoy's team win…No way. I bet Malfoy paid his way to  
become captain of their Quidditch team," Ron said emphatically.

Hermione flinched at the mention of "Malfoy" but Ron did not notice it, because he was  
halfway out of the library. She gathered all her books and stuffed them inside her bag. She  
could hear Ron yelling "Hurry up!" from the library entrance.

Hermione rushed out the door, feeling a little guilty with the noise she and Ron made in the  
library when she saw Madame Pince's disapproving look.

It was dinnertime, and as usual, the food on the tables was superb and abundant. However,  
Draco had no appetite. He pushed the steak around his plate with his fork and knife while  
lost in his thoughts about Granger and what the Dark Lord ordered him to do to her. His  
so-called friends, Crabbe and Goyle, who were sitting at either side of him, were too busy  
gobbling up the pudding in the shortest time possible to notice Draco's loss of appetite.  
However, it did not go unnoticed to Pansy, who was sitting across the table from him.  
Draco had been relieved that he managed to get Crabbe and Goyle to sit at either side of  
him before Pansy got the chance to sit beside him. But Pansy had the foresight to sit across  
the table from him, where she was casting looks ranging from flirty to sultry at Draco.

"Draco, what's wrong? You have not eaten more than three bites off your steak," Pansy  
cooed at Draco.

'_She keeps count of my bites? This girl is pathetic,'_ Draco thought mercilessly. He hated  
it when someone disturbed him while thinking. _'And that someone, of all people, had to be_  
_Pansy with her annoying shrill voice.'_

Draco said out loud, "Nothing's wrong, Pansy. I just don't feel like eating, and talking as  
well." His tone reeked of shut-up-or-you'd-be-sorry air. He highly doubted if Pansy would  
be able to get his real message, though. Pansy was just a shell, hollow between her ears.

It took all of Draco's willpower not to verbally harass and abuse Pansy. He took care to  
maintain good relations with his housemates, the Slytherins. Most Slytherins came from old  
wizarding families, which more often than not meant power, influence, and money.

Draco suddenly remembered the Weasleys. The Weasleys were not fit to be part of the  
exclusive pureblood wizarding families of old. They were poorer than rats and they associated  
themselves with Muggles and Mudbloods. _'They give magic a bad name.'_ Draco thought  
irritably.

'_Lucky for me I'm a Malfoy and my house is Slytherin,'_ Draco thought with an air of  
superiority. What was important was that some of his housemates had Death Eaters for parents…  
and after their graduation from Hogwarts, they would be most probably become Death Eaters  
themselves. He did not want to be in bad terms with anyone who had connections to the Dark  
Lord. Draco had big dreams of power and greater wealth for himself. He had a good head  
start—now he was the youngest Death Eater, and part of no less than the inner circle. He did  
not want his plans to be messed up in any way.

Draco was transported from his thoughts and back to reality when he felt something hit his left  
foot under the table. He looked across the table and saw Pansy smiling naughtily at him.

'_Now she's trying to play footsy with me! Didn't she get it that I want her to leave me_  
_alone? Pansy's so slow that you could burn her with a candle and she would not feel the_  
_pain until an hour later.'_ Draco fought the urge to say to Pansy's face his thoughts about  
her. He felt her foot go up his left leg under his robes. Draco knew what he had to do. He  
stepped his right foot on Pansy's other foot…stepped very hard.

"OUCH!!" Pansy's shriek rang across the Great Hall. "Why did you do that? That was my  
foot!" Pansy hissed at Draco.

Draco put on the most mockingly innocent face he could come up with, and being Draco,  
looking innocent was not an easy thing to do, even if it was just mocking.

"Oh was that your foot? I thought it was Mrs. Norris. Too bad it wasn't her. She's better off  
dead than roaming the school with Filch anyway." Draco nonchalantly said.

Pansy must have bought Draco's story, because she was making goo-goo eyes at him a few  
moments later, after she had recovered from the pain. Draco was very happy that Pansy  
stopped playing footsy with him that he felt he could, just for now, tolerate Pansy staring at  
him. He had more important things to think about, anyway, like the Dark Lord's orders  
involving Granger.

Hermione was about to drink her fruit punch when she heard a shriek. She turned her  
head towards the sound, and so did all students in the Great Hall.

When people realized it was just Pansy, everyone returned to minding their own businesses.  
Every Hogwarts student was used to Pansy's melodramatic outburst over shallow things.

"Hmph, maybe poor Pansy had just a lovers' quarrel with her Draco," Lavender said  
sarcastically. She stabbed her blueberry cheesecake violently.

"Ooooh, I sense bitterness in the air," Parvati answered teasingly. She waved her right hand  
in front of Lavender's face.

"You sound like a jealous girlfriend, Lavender," Neville said bluntly before taking a spoonful  
of potato salad.

"I am not jealous!" Lavender hissed. No one believed her though. The Gryffindors were all  
smiling knowingly. The whole Gryffindor house knew Lavender's huge crush on Draco Malfoy.

"It's okay, Lavender. You're not the only one who's jealous. You have great taste, and  
so does the whole female population of Hogwarts. Draco is sure the hottest and sexiest guy  
in our school! He's got the looks, the body, the money, and the enigma!" Parvati said  
understandingly and gushingly at the same time.

All the Gryffindor guys who heard Parvati gush rolled their eyes. All except for Neville,  
who was Parvati's boyfriend. Neville was frowning but when Parvati smiled at him  
reassuringly, his face relaxed.

"Excuse me, not the whole female population. Maybe I have bad taste, but I don't think  
Malfoy is hot or sexy or enigmatic," Hermione corrected Parvati.

Ron discreetly smiled at Hermione's declaration.

"But Hermione, you've got to admit that, objectively, Malfoy is handsome," Ginny reasoned.  
Harry shot a warning look at Ginny. "Too bad he's just too horrible. Good looks is sometimes  
wasted on the wrong people. But fortunately, it did not get wasted on Harry." Ginny added.  
She looked at Harry and took his left hand in her right one. A relaxed smile settled over Harry's  
face.

Nobody contradicted Ginny. Everybody knew Harry was as kindhearted as Malfoy was  
as horrible. And through the years, Harry had grown to be handsome in a charmingly boyish  
yet manly sort of way. Although he did not have a reputation of being notoriously enigmatic  
like Draco Malfoy, Harry had a certain air of mystery and enigma despite of his clean-cut  
image. Like Ron, he had grown tall and well-built, although he was not as tall as Ron.

Ginny remembered Harry telling her that Fleur Delacour called him "zis little boy" when he  
was in fourth year. Harry was what people called a "late-bloomer" and he had been pretty  
insecure because of that when he was younger. _'If only Fleur can see him now', _Ginny  
thought as Harry gave her hand a light squeeze.

"Ewww! I saw that!" Ron suddenly exclaimed. He pointed an accusing finger towards  
Harry and Ginny.

"You saw what, Ron?" Harry asked pleasantly. His face was a perfect picture of innocence.

"No public display of affection, please! Especially not in front of me!" Ron protested. The  
whole Gryffindor table laughed.

"Ron, it was just a squeeze—" Seamus tried to reason for Harry, who was trying his best  
to keep a straight face.

"But that's where it all starts!" Ron exclaimed. His ears were now tinged with pink.

"Yeah. From a squeeze. All problems come from a squeeze." Hermione said dryly. She  
shook her head slightly in exasperation.

"I'll pretend I did not hear that, Ron. And I know that you know that I'm not a rat," Harry  
assured Ron. Harry and Ron had a big talk when he and Ginny got together. Harry understood  
Ron's uneasiness over the whole setup. After all, he was dating his best friend's younger sister.  
That was a valid reason for awkwardness.

Ron sighed. He was happy that Ginny and Harry, two of the most important people in his  
life, were happy together. Ginny had liked Harry since she first read about him more than  
seven years ago. That was even before she had met him. Through the years, as Ginny  
discovered the human side of Harry, that like had blossomed into love, as Ginny confided  
in him before. For the past years, Ginny carried on with unrequited love while watching  
Harry fall all over Cho Chang. Harry, on the other hand, had experienced heartbreak when  
Cho could not bring herself to like Harry the same way Harry liked her. She had said to  
Harry that she did not want to be on the rebound, not when she was not yet over Cedric  
Diggory, even years after his death. Harry also had felt tremendous guilt over Cedric's death.  
Ginny was there for Harry when Cho was not.

Both Ginny and Harry had gone through so much and it was about time that they find happiness.  
But he did not imagine that they would find happiness in each other. Ron still could not fathom  
the fact that his little sister and his best friend were together, kissing behind his back, or worse…  
He just could not deal with it yet. It was all too soon. Harry and Ginny had been together for  
just three months.

"Harry, just give me time. It's hard to imagine you and Ginny together—" Ron started to explain  
but was cut off by Dean.

"Then don't imagine. You'll just torture yourself when your imagination gets the better of you,"  
Dean said laughingly. He winked mischievously at Ron.

Ron glared at Dean. "I know Harry is not a rat like Scabbers," Ron explained to everyone.  
This was met by smirks from Harry and Hermione. "He's a good guy or else he would not be  
my friend. But I'm just worried because hormones, especially in males, can have a mind of  
their own. At our age, hormones can go berserk and we all know that could happen when  
they take over. Harry was able to fight the Imperius curse when we were in fourth year in  
Defense Against the Dark Arts class, but if he would be able to fight his hormones is another  
matter. I'm just worried about my sister," Ron continued with what he was saying.

All the girls at their table who heard what Ron said gasped audibly, while the guys snickered  
knowingly. Ginny was blushing so hard her facial skin color almost matched her fiery red hair.  
Harry's mouth was twitching. Hermione looked at Ron with her mouth gaping open.

"Wow, Ron, you know more about my so-called raging hormones than I do," Harry said  
while suppressing in his laughter. He pushed his glasses up his nose.

"I suddenly lost my appetite," Lavender said, putting down her forkful of blueberry cheesecake.

"I think we need to talk again Ron…privately," Harry continued, pushing away a lock of stray  
hair from his glasses in a gesture which many girls find adorable.

"Ron! You shock me!" Hermione cried out. She had managed to find her voice after a few  
moments of shock. Ron could be hopelessly tactless sometimes.

"I shock you because I know about these things? Maybe you don't notice it, Hermione, but  
you're not the only one who reads, even if I don't read every book I lay my hands on," Ron  
said proudly.

Before Hermione could retort back, Ginny spoke up. "Um, Ron, maybe you don't notice it,  
but I'm here, and Harry's here. Please don't talk about us as if we were not here right in front  
of you!"

It was only then when it dawned on Ron. His mouth gaped open and his face tinged red at the  
realization of what he just said.

"Oh stop blushing Ron. We would not know where your hair ends and your face starts.  
They'll blend in well together," Hermione retorted.

The whole Gryffindor table, once again, burst out laughing.

Draco realized that he could not tolerate Pansy staring at him when he was trying to think  
about important matters. He stood up from his chair and started to walk out the Great Hall.

"Hey Draco, where are you going?" Pansy called after Draco. She also stood up from her  
chair and followed Draco.

"I'm going back to the dorm. I am tired. Leave me alone. I don't want to talk to anyone,"  
Draco said evenly.

Pansy hesitated, then she returned to the Slytherin table. Draco knew that Pansy, just like  
almost all the girls he knew, would never dare offend or irritate him wittingly, and that she  
would always be at his beck and call. _'What she does not know is that she irritates me_  
_just being her brainless pathetic little self,'_ Draco thought viciously.

He was about to walk out the door when he heard a burst of laughter. He turned to look and  
saw the students at the Gryffindor laughing. _'Maybe over something stupid and childish,'_  
Draco thought. His eyes settled over a laughing Granger. For a moment he felt an overwhelming  
urge to go over the Gryffindor table and do something, anything to make her stop laughing. It  
annoyed him to no end to see her laughing like that when he was straining his mind thinking  
about how he would accomplish the Dark Lord's orders involving her. Draco fought that urge,  
knowing that it would ruin his and the Dark Lord's plans. Draco had taken his father's place  
when he died at the hands of Aurors early this year. However, everything was a secret as of  
now. Nobody knew except the Dark Lord and the Death Eaters that he, Draco Malfoy, was  
a Death Eater. He could not risk being kicked out from Hogwarts by Dumbledore and be sent  
to Azkaban when he was just starting out. He had no intention to be sent to Azkaban anytime  
in his life, anyway. That would be a disgrace to the Malfoy name. So he just stood there for a  
moment longer, watching the Mudblood laugh, before walking out the door. _'But it won't be_  
_long. Tonight she'll stop laughing.'_

Hermione was alone in the Gryffindor common room. She had just finished writing three  
essays that were due a week from now. She had finally finished reading the book about  
Advanced Transfiguration, and now she was doing advanced exercises for her Arithmancy  
class. She was getting sleepy and tired. It was no surprise, because it was already half past  
midnight. Hermione wanted to hit the bed and just sleep, but she always took a bath before  
going to sleep.

'_I should have taken a bath before studying. Drat, Filch and Mrs. Norris might_  
_catch me if I go to the bathroom, and that will be embarrassing because I'm Head_  
_Girl. I could get lectures about setting a good example. But I can't go to sleep_  
_without taking a bath,' _Hermione thought.

She thought about it for a little while and she decided to go to the bathroom. _'Well, I'll_  
_be really careful. If I get caught, I'll just tell Filch that I'm just going for a bath,_  
_which is the truth anyway. Even if he would tell on me to the teachers, surely they_  
_will not take it against me for having a bath, I hope.'_

She went up to her room and took her bathrobe. She did not need to bring towels and  
soap because the prefects' bathroom were fully equipped with the most luxurious amenities.

Moments later she went out of the Gryffindor dormitory and she walked the dark hallways  
and climbed up the stairs. She did not dare to take her wand out and cast the spell _Lumos._  
She was not afraid of the dark anyway, and she knew the way. She could not risk being  
spotted because of a light coming from her wand. She took extra care not to make a sound.  
She kept her eyes and ears open for any shapes and sounds that could be Mrs. Norris,  
Filch, or any of the ghosts. She dreaded meeting Peeves after hours. Peeves would surely  
cause a racket and would wake the whole school.

Finally she reached the prefects' bathroom, and she sighed with relief. She would just have  
to worry about going back to her dorm later.

"Iris blooms," she uttered the password. The bathroom door opened. She stepped inside  
and walked over the cold white marble. The door closed behind her. She had taken off her  
robes and was in her short, sheer pink negligee when she heard a low chuckle from behind  
her. She froze. As unexpected as it was for her to hear that sound at that place and time,  
there was no mistaking that chuckle.

She turned around slowly, knowing whose chuckle was that even without looking. She had  
heard it about a thousand times or more for almost seven years. And she saw, near the door,  
a young man with platinum-blond hair leaning lazily on the wall. She saw a dangerous flash  
in his gray eyes. She saw the insolent smirk on his lips. To her horror, she saw that he was  
wearing nothing but a white towel wrapped around his hips.

It was no other than Draco Malfoy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

It was just a little after midnight, but Draco could not find a quiet place in the Slytherin  
house. He could not think at the Slytherin dormitory because some of the older students  
were holding a little drinking party, which Draco knew would be anything but little. The  
Slytherin prefect was part of it, too, so he doubted if the party would end pretty soon.  
Normally, Draco would be the life of the party; but this time, he had to do work before  
pleasure.

He took his wand with him and slid out of the common room and walked down the  
deserted labyrinthine passages of the dungeons. He was going out for a midnight stroll.  
He would just have to be extra careful not to get caught, but he did not care about the  
loser Filch and his pathetic cat Mrs. Norris catching him walking around the school  
grounds after hours. It was the least of his worries.

Draco walked aimlessly in the dark, his mind dwelt on recent occasion that caused him  
to lose sleep lately…

It was midnight, and the muggle cemetery was dark and quiet. On an open field within the cemetery,  
the Death Eaters were in a circular formation, with the Dark Lord, the Lord Voldemort, in the middle  
of the circle. Draco took his deceased father's place at the Death Eater's circle. He lifted his hood  
from his shoulders and wore it over his head. He peeked at his left forearm and saw The Dark Mark  
gleam on it. _'I am now one of them,' _Draco thought to himself triumphantly. _'Father would've been_  
_ so proud.'_

The Dark Lord moved around the circle and stopped in front of Draco. Then the Dark Lord went back  
to the center of the circle and said in a low, hollow voice, "It was unfortunate to have Lucius Malfoy, a  
servant who had proved to be faithful and great for the last three years, to die. But his death is an honorable  
one. He died fighting the Aurors who had nothing better to do but come after us and get in our way."

The Dark Lord stopped talking and his cold gaze swept around the whole circle before resting on Draco.

"But his son took his place," The Dark Lord continued. "But you have to wait until after your graduation  
from Hogwarts, Malfoy, before anybody not from our side can find out about you being a Death Eater.  
That meddling Dumbledore would surely kick you out if he found out. That should not happen, not when I  
have great tasks for you to do. I expect you to be as great a servant as your father had been, if not greater,"  
Lord Voldemort said directly to Draco.

"You're expectations would be met. I would do anything you ask me to do, my Lord," Draco answered  
confidently.

"Of course, you would do anything I ask you to do, Malfoy. You know what happens to people who either  
disobey me or render poor services to me." Lord Voldemort gave out a low evil laugh.

Draco's confidence faltered for a moment, but only for a moment. The Dark Arts was the Malfoy legacy.  
This was what his father raised him to be.

"As you all know, I have grown stronger since I had risen three years ago. As consequence, we have  
grown stronger. But aside from some attacks we made, we still don't have total domination over the whole  
wizard world," Lord Voldemort continued in his low voice. "AND YOU KNOW I WOULD NOT  
SETTLE FOR ANYTHING LESS!" Lord Voldemort suddenly roared, and a flash of green light came off  
his wand as he hissed, _"Crucio!"_

Draco's attention turned to Mr. Goyle as he doubled over in painful anguish. The Dark Lord walked over  
to the man who slumped on the ground. "Next time, I want clean work. No traces, no evidences, no  
witnesses," The Dark Lord hissed to Mr. Goyle.

The other Death Eaters stiffened a little. Everyone was anticipating and dreading the pain of the Cruciatus  
Curse.

The Dark Lord turned to Draco, and Draco felt a twinge of fear. "That or something worse could happen  
to you, Malfoy, if you do not satisfactorily do what I order you to do. But if I'm happy with your work, I  
could give you honor, power, fame, and greatness beyond your wildest dreams. We'll see about that,  
because I have a task for you," Lord Voldemort said to Draco in a low voice. Draco listened attentively.  
This was his chance to greatness.

"Somehow I could not get to that Harry Potter," Voldemort spat his name. "I want him to suffer for a long  
time and eventually die a painful lingering death in my hands, but he is always well-guarded at Hogwarts.  
But soon he'll be out in the real world, and not within the damning protective shelter of Hogwarts," the  
Dark Lord paused. Draco wondered what he was getting at, but did not dare to speak yet.

"And what better way to get to Harry than to get to his friends first? I have that mudblood Hermione  
Granger in mind. She is supposedly smarter—though I highly doubt it— than any witch or wizard among  
her peers, and she's one of Potter's so-called best friends. With this plan, we would have the other side's  
supposedly smartest witch on our side and we would use her to lure Potter to come to me. Two birds  
with one stone, I would say. And after I got that Potter in my hands, you can kill that Granger in any way  
you wish. Yes, it would be that mudblood Granger, and that's where you come in, Draco Malfoy," Lord  
Voldemort stared straight into Draco's gray eyes.

Draco liked the sound of the plan. _'Maybe I would get to kidnap Granger and imprison her in some_  
_ dungeon. For once she would surely stop being a know-it-all bitch when her life is in my hands,'_  
Draco thought excitedly.

"Malfoy, you have to get Granger pregnant with your child, and I don't want you to rape her. That would  
cause problems when she tells somebody. You have to seduce her, make her give in to you, make her  
want you, make her feel dirty and guilty, so she would feel ashamed to tell anybody. Lead her on, make  
her fall in love with you, so she would be at your call. As for the child that you and her would have, it  
would be the greatest hold that you would have on her, the greatest bond that would tie her to the Dark  
Side for as long as she lives," the Dark Lord explained. "Not that she would live long." The Dark Lord  
laughed maniacally.

Draco's mouth gaped open. That was the last thing he expected to hear. He had never anticipated  
mingling with Mudbloods in his lifetime.

"I know you could do it, Malfoy. You're the only Death Eater that is the same age as she is. I highly  
doubt if she could fall for a fat dirty old man like Mr. Crabbe here," Lord Voldemort said with a gesture  
towards Mr. Crabbe. "And I know for a fact that Lucius introduced you to the ways of the world when  
you were twelve. He had told me so with pride. And since then you've known a lot of women, a lot of  
them older, experienced, and worldly, in the most biblical sense," Lord Voldemort said with finality in his  
voice, as if he was expecting no more questions, just obedience. And Draco knew that _that_ was what  
the Dark Lord had in mind, but he could not help gaping in astonishment.

"I know what you're thinking, Mlafoy. She is a Mudblood. You would never dream of touching her, much  
more have sex with her. But consider her as a toy that you would use and play with, only to discard later.  
You should learn what you can use to your advantage. And as I said before, I give you the privilege to kill  
her in any way you want after you had your way with her, and aside from that, I should reward you greatly  
if you accomplish your task. Not that I give you a choice not to do it," and the Dark Lord laughed his  
wicked evil laugh.

_'Seduce that Granger…how can I convincingly seduce that mudblood Granger and_  
_make her fall in love with me, for crying out loud, when just the thought itself is revolting…_  
_that Mudblood is a lower life form unworthy of me,'_ Draco thought with an air of superiority.

But he had to do it soon, because the task would take a considerable amount of time. It  
was no secret that there was no love lost between them. And there was no way he would  
not do it. His future depended on it. And he liked the idea of reducing that little miss snotty  
prefect to what she really was—a Mudblood who was a slave for a pureblood like himself.

He was climbing up the stairs when he heard footsteps on the floor below him. He quickly  
climbed to the top and hid in a dark corner, expecting to see Filch and his cat.

But in the dim light, Draco saw that the figure was no other than the Mudblood Granger,  
clutching her wand and her bathrobe in one hand. Obviously, she was going to the bathroom.  
To the prefects' bathroom, based on the direction she was taking.

Draco saw that this was the perfect opportunity. If he had to do seduce Granger, might as  
well do it now and get it over with. At least he was guaranteed that they would be alone. No  
way would he let anybody see him doing favors for a Mudblood. A lot of females were  
vying for his valuable attention, and only a select few could get it. Granger really ought to  
thank him.

He knew he looked good, and he also knew he was good in pleasuring women. He would  
have Granger moaning his name in no time at all. Granger's body would betray her at an  
intimate touch. He would have to worry about getting her to fall in love with him later.

He saw Granger climb up the stairs, so he went in a side door which led to a shortcut to  
the corridor where the prefects' bathroom was situated. _'Perfect, I got here first before_  
_she did.'_ He had no problem with the password even though he was not a prefect. He  
had enough snogging sessions with the Ravenclaw prefect in the bathroom for him to  
know what the password was.

He went inside the bathroom and quickly took off all his clothes and left them on the floor.  
He got a white towel and wrapped it around his hips. _'That Granger would get the shock_  
_of her life. Being the geek that she is, I'm certain that she had never seen a naked_  
_man—not to mention in the flesh—ever in her boring insignificant life.'_

He leaned against the wall that was beside the door. Moments later, the door opened, and  
he saw Granger come in without glancing back as the door closed behind her.

Draco watched as Granger pulled off her black school robes over her head. She pushed  
aside her school robes, her bathrobe, and her wand and started to walk towards the pool.  
Her back was towards him, so she had no idea that he was there. The idea of prissy  
Granger undressing in front of him amused him to no end, and he let out a low chuckle.

Then, slowly, she turned around to look…and froze in shock. He knew that she finally  
saw him.

The moment she turned to face him, Draco temporarily forgot that this was all part of the  
Dark Lord's grand plan, a task which he had to do. He just never thought he would ever  
see Granger as an object of lust. Not in character for prudish Granger. But there she was,  
in front of him, wearing nothing but a short and sheer pink negligee. He did not even think  
that she could own a negligee like the one she was wearing. But the moment she had turned  
to face him, he had to admit that Granger, Mudblood or not, was definitely something to  
look at.

He had always thought of Granger as a geeky, genderless Mudblood. Maybe he had seen  
her as pretty once or twice, during school dances when she took the time to fix up. But  
Draco was used to bedding voluptuous women, not cute and skinny schoolgirls. But seeing  
her in nothing but a short and sheer pink negligee made him realize that Granger had so  
much woman packed in her petite frame— all soft sloping curves and filled out in all the  
right places.

_'Damn you Granger',_ he thought as he felt the beginning of an arousal stir between his legs.

Her bushy brown hair was not as bushy as he always thought it was. Her hair was artfully  
tousled, giving her a sultry bed head look. Her cinnamon eyes had a flash that showed anger  
and resistance. Draco had never met a female who had resisted him. Granger would be a  
refreshing change. His eyes followed the contour of her face, the fullness of her red lips, and  
her slim neck…her alabaster shoulders and her full white breasts that peeked through the  
transparent material of her negligee…and her narrow waist…and…down he looked, like an  
intoxicated sailor. He took in her slim hips and shapely legs. _'Do Potter and Weasley know_  
_what kind of woman they had in their midst? Knowing the kind of eggheads they both_  
_are, I doubt it,'_ Draco mused as he stared lustfully and drunkenly at Granger.

One snap of those almost non-existent straps of that flimsy nightgown, and he could take  
her right then and there on the cold marble floor. It would be so much easier to pin her on  
the floor and force his way inside of her. But that was not the way it should go.

_'I should be the one seducing, not be the one seduced,' _Draco reminded himself angrily.  
Being weak, being a Death Eater, and being a Malfoy did not mix.

He was annoyed to no end to be highly aroused like this when Granger obviously was not  
the least bit flustered to see him in nothing but a towel. She was angry, but not flustered.  
He did not like it one bit.

_'We'll see about that',_ Draco thought wickedly.

She stood in shock. Somehow her brain could not process that it was Malfoy standing in  
front of her. It was like a nightmare.

"Malfoy! Wha-what are you doing in here?" Hermione managed to sputter out a few  
moments later.

She had no idea why he was here. Her mind raced, trying to think and piecing everything  
together. Malfoy alone in a bathroom with her, after hours. Malfoy in a towel. She still  
had no idea what he was doing here, but things definitely did not look good. Malfoy was  
always up to no good. And it did not help that she was wearing a flimsy negligee. The  
negligee was a naughty birthday gift from Lavender and Parvati when she had turned  
seventeen. She wore it because she did not want it to be put to waste and she never  
imagined that someone would ever see her in it. _'Oh how I wish I wore one of my usual_  
_long, thick, and plain camisoles,' _she desperately thought, crossing her arms across her  
chest to cover her breasts.

She left her wand with her bathrobe and school robes near the door, where Malfoy was  
standing and leering at her. She might not be used to having guys leering at her, but she  
knew that kind of look—she had seen it on guys when they looked at some girls. No  
way would she go near him. And she knew that Malfoy would simply pick up her wand  
if she dared to get it. She could try to go out, but he would just block the doorway. Maybe  
she could try to push him away from the door when he would block it, but he was taller  
than her by a head, and he was built well. She had no chance to struggle against him.  
Distance was the best option for now.

"I should be the one asking you that. It's already after hours. It's way past your bedtime,  
little Head Girl," Malfoy's condescendingly sneering voice broke through her thoughts.

Indignation replaced horror and shock in Hermione's brain.

"There's no rule against taking a bath. And besides, you're not a prefect and this bathroom  
is for prefects only!" Hermione said hotly through gritted teeth.

"My father had funded for the maintenance of the whole school. I have every right to be  
in here as you. Come to think of it, I have more right to be here than you do." Malfoy replied  
arrogantly, his arms folded over his muscular chest.

_'Muscular chest, muscular chest? I should be thinking about how to get out of here._  
_Nothing is good whenever Malfoy is involved,'_ Hermione panicked. She was afraid,  
angry, confused, and a bit fascinated all at once, but she did her best to maintain a stern  
outward appearance.

To her horror, Malfoy walked towards her. For every step Malfoy took forward, she took  
a step backward.

And to her greater horror and guilty fascination, the towel slipped down Malfoy's hips  
and landed on a heap on the floor.

"Oops. Sorry about that," Malfoy said nonchalantly, not bothering to pick up the towel  
or cover himself up. He did not look like he was sorry in the least bit.

He just stood there in his naked glory.

And naked glory indeed it was. Hermione's treacherous eyes took in the broad shoulders  
and his lean chiseled body. She had never seen a naked man before, not even in pictures. She  
was very embarrassed and very angry at Malfoy for putting her on the spot like this, for trying  
to get her flustered. She looked down to avoid looking at his whipcord-lean chest…only to  
see his manhood…his throbbing manhood. She was a virgin and she did not know the ways  
with sex, but she was not that naïve for her not to know what that meant._ 'At least I'm not_  
_the only one who is uncomfortable here,'_ Hermione felt a surge of victory inside her.  
Whatever game Malfoy was playing, it turned against him.

"I know what you want to happen, Malfoy. I know what you're up to. You want to catch  
me off-guard, to make me flustered, just so you can say that you had the last laugh. Well,  
you're wrong. Malfoy, have you run out of ideas of trying to make my life miserable? As  
usual, you have failed," Hermione retorted snottily, her arms still stubbornly crossed over  
her chest and her chin up defiantly.

Malfoy maliciously smiled, and Hermione was suddenly not so sure if that was all what he  
was up to. She watched as he picked up his school robes. He started to walk out towards  
the bathroom door. _'He would not even dress himself? Malfoy had some nerve,'_  
Hermione thought in disbelief. She was also relieved beyond words that he would be  
leaving as he opened the door.

"What makes you think that you know what I'm up to? And besides, if your erect nipples  
were any indication, then I have not failed. See you around…Hermione," Malfoy said in a  
low lazy drawl, and then he stepped out the door, stark naked, leaving a surprised and  
indignant Hermione who was unwillingly turning to a shade of bright red.


	3. Chapter 3

**_Chapter 3_**

As soon as Draco got out of the bathroom, he quickly dressed himself up. No way  
would he dress in front of that Granger. It would be like admitting defeat. He would  
not give the Mudblood that kind of satisfaction.

_'She had been gawking at me. I'm sure of that. And the look on her face when_  
_I called her by her name was priceless,'_ Draco thought smugly.

When he got back to the Slytherin dormitory, he found out that he could not find peace  
in sleep, because sleep did not come to him. His brain was filled with relentless thoughts  
of Granger.

Seducing her was harder than he thought. He should have known that the Mudblood  
would resist with all her might. They were, after all, sworn enemies. _'And she would_  
_not be called smart for nothing,'_ he thought grudgingly. Granger would think that he  
had a dirty trick up his sleeve. Just how dirty it would be, Granger might not know. But  
he knew that she would be cautious more than ever, and that made his task more difficult.  
At least the Dark Lord gave him until after graduation to complete his task. Two months  
would be enough. He had started already, and still he had time to take it slowly but surely.

Another consolation was that Granger, when it came to looks, turned out to be a woman  
he deemed worthy to share his bed with. He was grateful that she did not look like a troll  
like Millicent Bulstrode. Granger was beautiful, not just for a Mudblood. She could hold  
her own against all the women he had known—that much he could admit to himself.

Draco tossed and turned in his bed. Thinking about Granger made him remember just  
how desirable she was. He felt the familiar stirring between his legs. He tried to ignore it,  
but his arousal had a mind of its own. He was overcome with lust.

_'I should have taken a cold shower,'_ he thought. Reluctantly, his hand went under his  
black silk blankets towards between his legs. There was no choice for him. He had to  
help himself.

The next day, Hermione took care not to go anywhere alone, except for bathroom  
visits, which she now dreaded like the plague. Somehow, she had managed to avoid  
Malfoy—or rather, she had managed not to look at Malfoy in the eyes. She was  
annoyed that he seemed to be everywhere she went. She did not know if it was  
coincidence, or just heightened senses, or if Malfoy was really following her around.

When she went to the library, she had managed to drag Ginny along with her. It was  
Ginny who saw _him._ He was standing at the aisles, reaching for a book at the top shelf.

"Hermione! Look who's here, Draco Malfoy! I didn't know that Mr.-Who-Thinks-  
He's-Too-Cool-For-Himself goes to the library. I did not know he even knows where  
the library is," Ginny whispered to Hermione.

Hermione turned around in her seat and truly, Malfoy was there in the flesh. In all her  
years at Hogwarts, she did not remember seeing him in the library. She should know,  
because she was in here constantly. Then again, he might have gone to the library for  
a couple of times or more, when she was not in here. Contrary to what Ron and Harry  
thought, she had other places to go aside from the library. Besides, Malfoy was a pretty  
good student. Hermione sincerely believed that one could not be a good student without  
ever going to the library. Still, she had her doubts.

"Let's get out of here," Hermione whispered back to Ginny.

"Are you done yet with that book? You can't take the book out. There's a _'for library_  
_use only'_ stamped in the cover," Ginny reminded her.

"I just think I've read enough of this book for today. I should focus my attention to other  
suggested readings," Hermione explained.

Ginny ignored what she said. "If it's about Malfoy, I think he's alone. I can't see Crabbe  
and Goyle anywhere, and with their sizes, they are hard to miss. There are two of us. If  
he tries anything nasty, remember that two wands are better than one." Ginny was keen  
to pick up on things.

_'Gees, just like Harry. No wonder they get along together so well,' _Hermione thought.

"No it has nothing to do with Mr. Ferret-Boy. I could not care less wherever he chose to  
go. For me, he is a non-entity," Hermione said rather defensively as she started to gather  
her things into her bag.

Ginny wisely decided to keep quiet and go along with Hermione's decision.

Hermione bit her lower lip. It was Monday, and she was walking to Potions class with  
the Gryffindors. With every step, they were getting nearer to the dungeons. She had an  
urge to cut Potions, but that would be stupid because she had no valid reason. Unless  
Snape would consider avoiding Malfoy as a reasonable excuse, which she knew would  
not happen in a million years. Besides, finals are coming up. She could not afford to miss  
a lesson.

"Hermione, is something wrong? You've been acting fidgety since yesterday," Harry  
asked as they walked together, concern visible in his green eyes.

"Nothing's wrong, Harry. It must be the final exams. They're coming up, you know,"  
Hermione lied. She hoped against hope that she was good enough a liar for Harry to  
believe her. For once, she hated Harry's observant nature.

"But the exams are two months away," Harry said suspiciously.

"You know Hermione. She'd be nervous even if the exams were two years away,"  
Ron said.

_'Thank goodness Ron is being his usual sarcastic self!'_ Hermione thought in relief.

Understanding dawned on Harry's eyes. "I'm sure you will do well in the finals. When  
haven't you been the top of our class?" Harry reassured her. "Er, except for Divination  
of course. Sorry, Hermione, but Ron and I have that honor," he added mischievously.

Ron and Harry laughed good-naturedly, and Hermione could not help but join in. They  
all thought that Divination class was a joke. Ironically, Ron and Harry get top scores by  
joking around with their predictions.

But the laughter died on her lips when they got to Potions. The Slytherins were already  
there. Malfoy was looking at her when she entered, a cold smile played on his lips. Hermione  
looked away. All of a sudden, she was feeling livid and embarrassed at the same time.

The Gryffindors settled in their seats, and moments later, Professor Snape walked in.  
As usual, he looked sinister in his black robes.

"As you all know, we are on our last topic, the Customized Potions. Last week I taught  
you how to make the Polyjuice Potion—" Snape paused when he Harry and Ron snorted  
knowingly at each other.

"Keep quiet when I'm talking! Ten points from Gryffindor. From each of you, Potter  
and Weasley." Snape smiled his icy smile.

That made Ron and Harry behave.

He resumed talking. "Today you will make the Ubernocturniserum, also known as the  
Special Sleep Potion. This is relatively easy to make, so I won't entertain questions about  
it. Just listen to what I say. Its base is the Nocturniserum, the Sleep Potion, only with  
added ingredients. I assume you still know how to concoct a Sleep Potion, because I  
will not trouble myself reminding you how to do it," Snape said pointedly, looking straight  
at Neville. Neville shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"The Ubernocturniserum not only induces sleep, but it also induces dreams. And you  
can choose what kind of dreams by choosing and controlling the ingredients you put in.  
After you have made the Sleep Potion, the first ingredient you will put in represents  
what kind of dream you want to induce. A pinch of sugar for so-called sweet dreams,  
a rose petal for romance, a spider's leg for nightmares, a cotton ball for funny dreams,  
a cube of dark chocolate for dreams with a sexual nature…that is just to name a few.  
You can mix and match. I have all possible first ingredients arranged and labeled on my  
desk," Snape turned towards his desk and gestured towards the assortment of materials  
on it.

At the mention of _"sexual nature"_, some girls blushed furiously while some guys looked  
at each other naughtily.

The second ingredient should be a part of a person or thing. That would constitute the  
subject of the dream. It will be up to you to supply that."

"The amount of the first ingredient will control the intensity of the dream. You have to be  
careful with that one. You will make the Ubernocturniserum by pairs, and you can choose  
partners. After you have chosen your partners, get the ingredient for the Sleep Potion  
under my desk. You can choose what ingredients you will use for the Ubernocturniserum,  
and who between you and your partner will drink the potion for testing. The tester will  
have to submit an essay describing the dream. If I had doubts of a fabrication, I would  
like to remind you that I will have no second thoughts about using the Veritaserum,"  
Snape continued.

It sounded like an interesting lesson, so everyone started to murmur excitedly.

"Before you get too happy about it, I would like to tell you that pairings are strictly  
Slytherin-Gryffindor. No same-house pairings. But that is the only rule. I will leave you  
the excitement of choosing your partners. I am sure you will enjoy that," Snape  
heartlessly declared.

This was met by groans, more from the Gryffindor side. But everyone knew better  
than to protest.

There was general chaos as people went around, unwillingly looking for partners. Harry  
ended up with Crabbe and Ron with Goyle. How that happened, Hermione did not know.  
Hermione had been thinking who among the Slytherins was remotely tolerable when  
Malfoy, carrying his cauldron, came up to her desk.

"You will be my partner," Malfoy stated with finality.

Hermione felt her blood boil. Ferret-boy did not even ask her, he just declared that they  
would be partners, as if she had no say in the matter. And why would he ever want her as  
a partner? What was going on?

"I don't want to!" Hermione answered hotly.

Snape heard her. He turned to look at Hermione and said, "This is no time for being  
picky, Granger. You need all the time you have to concoct the Ubernocturniserum, and  
Mr. Malfoy asked you nicely to be your partner. Ten points from Gryffindor, and you  
will test your and Mr. Malfoy's potion," Snape pitilessly said.

Malfoy smiled triumphantly. He sat on what was Harry's seat and placed his cauldron  
and the on the table. He had already gotten the ingredients for the Sleep Potion, and he  
also placed them on the table beside the cauldron.

Hermione reached for some ingredients. "I'll mix this in my cauldron while you mix what's  
left in yours," she said simply. _'I'll just pretend that last night didn't happen.'_

"Granger, I hate this as much as you do, but we're supposed to work together!" Malfoy's  
voice had an irritated edge to it.

_'Now he's calling me Granger again. At least that's normal.'_ Hermione thought.

"Then why did you choose me to be your partner?" she snapped at him.

"Don't flatter yourself, Granger. I did not choose you. I randomly picked you out from  
the lousy Gryffindors. Whether you were Potter, or Weasley or, or Brown, or Patil, or  
whoever, it does not make a difference to me. If I really had a choice I would have  
worked with Pansy," Malfoy said smoothly.

"I sure wished you did," Hermione irately said.

"Don't you want our fluids mixed together?" Malfoy asked suggestively.

Hermione's eyes widened. She heard him right, but there was no mistaking that tone.  
_'That statement has sexual overtones!' _Hermione thought angrily. Her mind raced.  
If she would react to what he said, he would just turn the tables on her and say that  
she had a dirty perverted mind. She chose to ignore the question.

"Then let's work using my cauldron. Hand me the grass root," Hermione said crossly.  
She held out her hand.

Obviously not wanting to take orders from her, he contemplated first before handing her  
the grass root. When he did, his hand grazed hers for a split second, and Hermione felt a  
tingle that traveled from her fingertips up to her arm, then coursed through her whole body.  
She looked up in surprise, and saw that surprise also flickered in Malfoy's eyes. But it  
was gone as soon as it came. His eyes turned to their usual hostility.

They proficiently worked in silence after that, as opposed to other pairs who were noisily  
arguing. In a matter of minutes, Hermione's cauldron contained a working Nocturniserum.  
Hermione could conjure a Sleep Potion in her sleep.

"We've got the Nocturniserum done. I am sure of that. Since I am the tester, I get to  
choose what I want to dream of. I want to dream about—"

"Weasley. Should I pull out a hair off his carrot-head? Or better, yet, how about an eye?"  
Malfoy cut in.

That was not in her mind, but still, Hermione blushed. Was it that obvious that she liked  
Ron? Or was Malfoy bluffing, trying to get her uncomfortable?

"Shut up. I want to dream about anything funny. Go get a cotton ball from Snape's table,"  
Hermione hurriedly said.

"No you get it."

She sighed exasperatedly. She did not want to start another pointless argument. Hermione  
wanted to get over and done with everything, so she stood up and went to Snape's table to  
get the cotton ball.

A couple of minutes later she returned. Malfoy was already sitting on her seat.

"Maybe you're smarter than I am, but that's no reason for you to monopolize the work.  
You're not the only one who can make potions, you know," Malfoy declared.

"Fine! Just make sure it works properly," Hermione retorted. "Here's the cotton ball."  
She placed it beside her cauldron. She would _not_ hand it to him.

As Hermione watched Malfoy stirring the mixture, she said mockingly, "I would not mind  
having a funny dream about you. One in which you'll turn into a ferret."

Malfoy glared at her. To her surprise, he pulled out a couple of blond strands from his  
head and put them in the mixture. The mixture turned into a murky brown.

"Is it supposed to turn into brown?" Hermione asked nervously. She peered into the  
cauldron as the liquid fizzled.

"It's a customized potion, Granger. We'll all have different results," Malfoy pointed out  
condescendingly.

Snape's voice cut through in the air. "By this time, you should have finished working on  
your Ubernocturniserum. The testers should drink a vial-sized portion of the potion before  
going to sleep later at night. I have the vials here on the table. If you break a vial, you will  
not be able to test your potion, and thus you will automatically get a zero on this exercise."  
He looked again at Neville, who was Millicent Bulstrode's partner.

"Don't look so nervous, Granger. I did not put poison in that, as you are apt to think,"  
Malfoy icily said to Hermione, who was looking uneasy at the thought of drinking the  
Ubernocturniserum.

"I guess I would find out for myself after drinking," she answered dryly.

It was late in the evening, and Hermione, in a simple long white nightgown, was ready to  
go to bed. She had drunk the potion a few minutes ago, and she was staring at herself in  
the mirror, looking for any indication that the potion went wrong.

"It has been five minutes. I still look normal. I feel normal," Hermione muttered to herself.  
She yawned. She was starting to get drowsy. She walked towards her bed and snuggled  
under her blue comforter. In a few moments, she was fast asleep.

Hermione was walking along the dark corridors when she felt someone pull her around the waist  
into an empty classroom. She tried to resist, but the grip was too strong. The next thing she knew,  
she was inside the Transfiguration classroom. She was pinned against the wall, and the person  
pinning her onto it was Draco Malfoy.

She tried to kick him, but she could not move her legs, because his whole body was pressed against  
hers. She tried to scream for help, but was silenced when his lips met hers in a searing kiss.

She tried to pull away, but her back was already pressed on the wall. She tried to push him, but he  
was too strong for her. His hands were slowly running up and down her sides, and with every touch,  
Hermione's resistance was getting weaker. She panicked, and renewed her struggle.

Malfoy just laughed wickedly against her mouth, and suddenly his tongue darted out into her mouth.  
She gasped. She had never been kissed like this before, and she found her lips hungry for it, even  
though her brain did not. She found herself kissing him back, wanting more. He broke the kiss, his  
tongue traveling her cheek, her neck, and her shoulders.

Before she knew it, he literally tore off her nightgown. She got frightened. This was getting too far.  
Any further and she knew there was no turning back. She tried to push him away again, but for every  
act of resistance she made, he counteracted with an intimate act, which rendered her weak.

His tongue circled her right nipple and she moaned involuntarily. Hermione knew she was into deep.  
"Please stop," she begged unconvincingly. Malfoy looked into her eyes as he too, tore his robes off  
his body. He knew she was lying.

They slid down the wall together, and she was on the cold floor, and he on top of her. This was what  
her mother had warned her about. It was all scary but every bit fascinating.

His hands expertly rolled down her underwear as he kissed her hungrily on the lips. His fingers  
grazed between her legs and her body arched against the touch. Then after a while, he stopped  
grazing his fingers down there, and she felt the want that could be satisfied only in one way. This  
time she moaned out loud, the need tearing through her body.

Hermione gasped as she sat upright in her bed. She was all sweaty and trembling. The  
dream was too real for her. She felt every sensation, and she was angry with herself for  
enjoying it.

"Damn you Malfoy. I should have known you would do something like this," Hermione  
muttered under her breath. That explained everything—why he wanted to be the one doing  
the Ubernocturniserum, why he did not think twice about putting his hair in the potion.  
When she got the cotton ball—that was when he might have put in the chocolate. Come  
to think of it, she did not notice Malfoy putting the cotton ball in the mixture._ 'Oh my_  
_goodness! I have to make an essay about this, and Snape would read it!'_

That did it. She would give Malfoy a piece of her mind, even if she had to barge in the  
Slytherin house and wake everyone up. She did not know exactly where the Slytherin  
house was, but in a time like this, that was an insignificant hindrance.

Hermione dressed up in her robes and got her wand. It was two in the morning but she  
did not care. She only started to get worried when she was out of the Gryffindor dormitory.  
_'Oh well, I'm already here, might as well get over it. I've walked around Hogwarts_  
_after hours for countless times. Besides, I don't want to go back to sleep yet.'_

She had only taken a few steps down a dark corridor when she heard a noise behind  
her. Someone must be following her. Her heart began to beat furiously. Was it Filch? It  
did not sound like his footsteps.

She turned around and saw Malfoy behind her.

"Did you find your dream funny, Granger?" he sneered as he came towards her.

"No, it was not in the least bit funny! How dare you do that! I told you to put in the  
cotton ball—" Hermione never got to finish her sentence. Malfoy had leaned over, put  
his arms around her waist, and caught her lips in a passionate kiss, a kiss that was way  
better than in her dream. They were on fire.

* * *

A/N: Aww...my previous upload before I used a different name, is now lessoned with reviews...I wonder why?

Thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**_Chapter 4_**

Hermione was drowning in sensations she had never felt before. Reality was temporarily  
suspended for her. She forgot that it was Malfoy who held her in his arms. All she knew  
was that she never wanted to let go. Her lips began to respond in a way she had never  
thought she was capable of. Her hand went up to the back of his head, her fingers running  
through his silky blond hair. Her wand lay at her feet, abandoned for the time being. It was  
all too scary yet exciting at the same time to throw caution to the winds and give in.

But her brain quickly caught up. She froze. A moment later, she pulled back from the  
consuming kiss. She tried to free herself from Malfoy's grasp, but his arms tightly held  
her around the small of her waist.

A slap struck Malfoy across the face.

Malfoy did not flinch in the least bit. "Hermione, I think you should know by now that  
slapping me will not get you anywhere," he said softly. Yet, the evil flash in his eyes belied  
the softness of his voice.

"Let me go, Malfoy," Hermione said half-angrily, half-desperately. _'Now he's calling_  
_me Hermione again!' _She pounded her fists on his chest, struggling to be freed.

To her surprise, Malfoy released her. Hermione looked up in fleeting wonder. She picked  
up her wand, ready just in case Malfoy pounced on it. But he just stood there, gazing at her  
with an air of fascination.

"Why are you looking for me in the wee hours of the morning, Hermione?" Malfoy asked  
with an air of certainty that she was indeed looking for him.

_'Now I'm the one who's in the hot seat!!'_ Hermione thought in indignation and  
defensiveness.

"You know why, Malfoy. The spiked potion, the incident in the bathroom," Hermione retorted.  
"Now I have to write an essay about my stupid dream for Snape to read!"

"Hermione, you can always lie about your dream, although I don't see the reason why. If  
you're worrying about the Veritaserum being used on you, remember that Snape said that  
he would use it only if he had doubts of a fabrication. If you'll write your essay well, which  
you will as you always do, then Snape would pretty much take it as it is. You worry over  
such little things, Hermione," he explained condescendingly.

She did not know how Malfoy almost always succeeded in getting to her nerves. All she  
wanted to happen was for her not to be affected by whatever he did and say against her.  
But Malfoy had a way of getting her angry and all worked up in spite of herself. Then she  
sighed heavily. "Why are you doing this to me?" Her voice was still hard, but it was laced  
with a slightly defeated note. She looked straight into his gray eyes.

The expression in his eyes was unreadable. "Does everything have to have a reason for you?"

"I just want to know what dirty game you are playing now, Malfoy."

"What if I say I want you? Would you take that reason? Or isn't that good enough for you?"  
he asked simply. There was no anger, resentment, bitterness, hostility, or anything that his eyes  
normally held whenever he looked at her.

Hermione was not prepared for that. All the reading that she had ever done in her life could  
never ever prepare her for this moment.

She stood there, not knowing what to think. A big part of her knew that Malfoy was  
bluffing…but deep down in her feminine heart, she felt strangely flattered to hear the words,  
even if she knew that they held no meaning. Suddenly they heard footsteps. Footsteps that  
sounded like Filch's.

Before she knew it, Malfoy grabbed her right hand and pulled her into the nearest empty  
room. It turned out to be the Transfiguration classroom. Hermione suddenly remembered  
the dream. She felt nervous. But she did not dare say a word because Filch might find  
out that she and Malfoy were sneaking around together after hours. She pulled her hand  
from Malfoy's tight grasp.

He was peeking through the hinges of the door, watching out for Filch. Seconds later,  
Filch and Mrs. Norris walked unsuspectingly past the entrance of the classroom. They  
stood behind the door, not moving, for a minute, waiting for Filch and Mrs. Norris to  
be out of earshot.

Hermione felt everything that was going on was surreal. She had experienced sneaking  
around school and hiding from Filch at ungodly hours, but she shared moments like that  
with Harry and Ron, but not with Malfoy. But here she was with him. He then turned to  
Hermione. "They're gone. The coast is clear. You can go back to your bed, Hermione,"  
he declared.

Hermione crossed her arms over her chest. "You have no right to order me around, and  
I still don't know what you are up to." The boldness in her voice was back in full force.

"I want you, Hermione. Do you find that difficult to understand?" Malfoy replied.

She really did not know how to deal with that. But she would never let him find that out.

"I don't believe you," she snapped.

"Do you think I'll go as far as kissing you if I did not want to?" was Malfoy's smooth  
comeback.

She could not believe that she was having this conversation with him. She knew that he  
was lying…but she was already into this deeply. Might as well go along with his bluff.

"You just can't barge in and treat me like your toy, Malfoy. Am I your flavor of the month?"  
Her voice was dripping with sarcasm.

He simply leaned against the wall and in the dim moonlight that wafted through the windows,  
and gazed at her the same way that he did in the prefects' bathroom.

Hermione felt that dealing with Malfoy was starting to get hopeless.

"You always get what you want. You have everything you want. I do not know why  
you're even bothering with me," Hermione said in a reflective tone.

This time, Malfoy lost his insolence for a brief moment. But after that, he was more  
conceited than ever.

"As you said, Hermione, I always get what I want. I don't stop when I have not gotten  
what I want," he said arrogantly.

She shot Malfoy a withering look, and started to walk out the door when he caught her  
by the arm.

"Have you ever heard Weasley say he wants you, Hermione? For that matter, do you  
often hear that being said to you by anyone? Don't be a hypocrite, Hermione. You want  
it. You enjoy it. Aren't you tired of being rigidly perfect? Or are you just frightened  
because you can't handle me?" Malfoy whispered in her ear.

_'He did it again. He found another way to stab me bull's-eye right where it hurts,'_  
Hermione resentfully thought. She knew that everything he said was true, deep in her  
heart, and she was livid because she could not believe how he could see through her and  
use everything to hurt her, to make her break down her defenses, leaving her vulnerable.

Suddenly she was filled with the crazed thirst to prove herself. She would not lose to  
Malfoy! The impulse and determination she had felt when she had walked out on  
Divination class for good back in third year enveloped her once again.

She pulled Draco by the collar of his robes, and brought her lips to his. Her kiss was  
fueled with all the anger and frustration in her heart. It took no time for Malfoy to respond.  
His tongue darted into her mouth, playing with hers. Hermione felt her lips burning as they  
welded to Malfoy's mouth. It was a wet kiss, like hot lava. It was lava so hot it made  
them sweat, lava so warm and really wet.

Hermione, her breath erratic, pulled away reluctantly after a long while. Malfoy, his usually  
slick blond hair now disheveled, looked like he did not want to end the kiss either. However,  
Hermione composed herself for what she was about to say.

"I'm not afraid of you, Malfoy. If you've think you've won whatever sick game you are  
playing with me, think again. You've got yourself a player," Hermione said in a clear voice.  
Then she went out of the classroom haughtily, leaving Malfoy alone.

A minute later, Draco was walking back to the Slytherin dormitory. He smiled smugly to  
himself. He was a good actor. Granger fell right into the trap. Maybe he could pull everything  
off perfectly, even better than the way he planned it, remembering what Granger just did. He  
did not count on Granger kissing him like that—he was genuinely surprised—but it seemed  
that his work would be easier. And kissing her was not so bad. In fact, it was pretty good…  
very good. _'Where did she learn to kiss that damn well?' _he wondered. He looked  
forward to the day when he would do more than just kiss her. He was starting to enjoy  
immensely the Dark Lord's task for him.

He was just bothered when Granger said that he had everything he wanted, as if she knew e  
verything that was to know about him. _'What makes her think that I have everything I_  
_want? She doesn't even know me,'_ Draco thought. He would not admit it to Granger, to  
anyone, not even to himself, that Granger had struck a nerve with that one.

But there was a moment which he could not shake out from his head. It was when he  
heard Granger talk to him in a voice in which she was not able to hide the defeat she  
must be feeling. Of course, it was only slight and fleeting, but he heard it. In all the time  
he had known Granger, she had always been strong, defiant, proud and indignant every  
time she dealt with him. He had never seen Granger vulnerable before.

That was what he wanted in the first place. He had felt triumphant, but he had also felt  
something else…was it pity? Pity for Granger, for what he was about to do to her? He  
shook his head to drive out the unpleasant thought. _I'm just a person on my own._  
_Nothing means a thing to me._

Hermione stared up at the ceiling. She had tried counting sheep to get back to sleep,  
but who was she kidding? She knew that she would get sleep not this time, not tomorrow  
night…not for a long time. She tossed and turned in her bed.

What did she get herself into? It was not like her to grab a guy and kiss him. Not to mention  
that the guy was Draco Malfoy. And it was not just about a kiss. It was everything that Malfoy  
was up to, whatever that was, and now she was involved.

It was what he had said. Malfoy's words stung. She remembered what he said about Ron.  
Was she so transparent that even he knew what she felt about Ron? When matters came to  
Ron, she always felt vulnerable and exposed. She sighed deeply. There had been times  
when she thought Ron did care for her as more than a friend…but there were times when  
she realized that she might just have imagined that. It was one thing for her to know that  
Ron did not care for her, but it was another thing for Malfoy to know. She did not want  
anyone laughing at her expense behind her back…not when her heart was breaking into  
a thousand pieces.

She had secretly thought that maybe she was too boring, too predictable, and too plain  
to be appealing to guys. Her friends said that she was far from ugly, but at the rate she was  
going, she was starting to have doubts. And she was sick and tired of hearing her friends  
say that maybe guys found her intimidating, blah blah blah. She watched Lavender, Parvati,  
and other girls getting asked to dates, and being showered with flowers and gifts. Of course,  
she was not shallow to care only for dates, gifts, and flowers, but it hurt to know that she  
was in no danger of getting them.

She sometimes watched Ginny and Harry together. She was glad that her two of her  
closest friends were happy, but she could not help but wish that the happiness she saw  
around her would somehow be hers.

But no. She hardly went out to dates, and her date to school dances was always Ron,  
who treated her just as a friend. There had been Viktor, and a couple of muggle boys  
she had gone out with during summer…but that was all. They were fleeting.

She was also tired from being labeled as perfect Hermione Granger—teacher's pet,  
Head Girl, top grades, responsible. She never told anyone, but sometimes she felt that  
the pressure and expectations were too strong and too high. She felt as if she had no  
excuse to do wrong. If she did in the slightest bit, people would talk about it, make a  
big deal out of it.

There were times when she wanted to break free from the monotonous cycle of her life.  
Maybe with Malfoy in the picture, maybe she would stop feeling being taken for granted,  
even if it was just a game.

_'I can handle it, I can handle anything I get myself into,'_ she thought determinedly.  
But deep inside of her, she knew her real motivation.

Was it wrong to wish to feel wanted? She felt guilty to feel that way because it was not  
like her, but who really knew who she was, when she did not know herself?

The emptiness inside Hermione consumed her, and she sobbed into her pillow, trying to  
find refuge in the tears that rolled down her cheeks.


	5. Chapter 5

**__****__**

PG Chapter

********

* * *

**_Chapter 5_**

Draco woke up earlier than he usually did. He was feeling good about himself, and  
proud with the way he was carrying out his mission.

He sat up in his bed and stretched his arms high above his head. He still had an hour  
and a half before breakfast. He still had time to think, which he preferred doing alone  
and quietly. He hated to be bothered.

He stood up, throwing the black silk blankets off him. He looked at himself in the  
mirror that was on the wall. "Good morning! You're looking good!" the mirror's  
voice piped up.

Draco gave a self-satisfied smile.

He was certain that he had caught Granger's fancy when matters came to a physical  
level. With his aristocratic good looks and after the hot kiss she gave him last night, he  
was pretty sure that her desire for him was already a given.

He did not need worry about having to rape her, because he was confident that Granger  
would give in…maybe even beg. He laughed wickedly. They would enjoy the deed very  
much.

But then again, the body would give in more easily than would the heart.

He had to deal with her heart.

He scowled. He could admit to himself that when matters came to that, he did not know  
much. Oh he was definitely smart—he just was not a geek like Granger, but if he were, he  
could give her a run for her prefect badge—but he did not know much how to deal with  
feelings. _'Ugh, feelings my ass,'_ Draco thought with contempt.

At least he had known women for a long time now, and he knew much about what they  
want, after dealing with whiny women who came after him after he had dumped them.

He figured that he had to be a sensitive man to be able to reach out to Granger; that much  
he knew.

But he did not know how, because he never needed to know before.

He was used to having everything at his beck and call. He was used to giving out orders.  
He was used to having his own way. He never had to adjust for anyone before.

And now he had to.

And that was the only thing he hated about his otherwise enjoyable mission.

_'I guess I just have to enjoy myself with the idea of what the Dark Lord did to that_  
_fool Dumbledore earlier,' _ Draco thought, pulling up a sleeve to look at the still-glowing  
mark on his arm.

Hermione's heavy eyes fluttered open. _'My eyes are so sore! Why…?' _she thought  
sleepily. And then she remembered. The memories of what happened the night before  
washed over her. Suddenly she felt that all she wanted to do was lie here on her bed  
to avoid seeing even just the back of Malfoy's head.

She had cried herself to sleep. Right now, she was sure that her eyes definitely looked  
bloated, if they felt this puffy.

She glanced at her bedside clock. It was half past the hour of breakfast time. "Damn,"  
she swore under her breath. She had half an hour before classes would start, and she  
had yet to take a bath, dress up, and try to do something to hide her puffy eyes. She  
did not want any questions when she herself did not know what to answer.

Sighing resignedly, she got up from her bed and picked up several books from the dresser  
table.

As she stuffed her books in her book bag, Hermione thought about the consequences of  
what she had done with Malfoy last night.

In the light of the morning, her brain seemed to work better logically. Now that she was  
awake, her thoughts began to clear up a bit.

She clearly remembered what took place last Saturday between Malfoy and her. It was  
the first time that she felt scared of him, something that she had never experienced before that.

_'That was a foreboding. I should have trusted my instincts and stayed away! He's_  
_up to no good! And he'll be a Death Eater in two months' time!'_ Hermione scolded  
herself in her mind. But a small voice nagged at the back of her mind. _'How sure am I_  
_that he'll be a Death Eater just because his father had been? I'm just as prejudiced_  
_as Malfoy is.'_

Curiosity and excitement over what was forbidden stirred inside her. That would not be  
easy to ignore.

And frustration over Ron, attraction to Malfoy, flattery, and rebellion made her emotions  
more confusing.

She snapped out of her reverie when she turned to look at the clock again.

"Gees, I think I'll have to take the shortest bath ever today," she muttered to herself. She  
had ten minutes before classes.

She went to the common room and was surprised when she saw it packed with students,  
most of whom were looking uncertain and anxious. Hermione felt a twinge of nervousness  
inside her. _'Students should be going to their classes by now. There's something_  
_wrong.' _ She walked past the huddles of students. Then she saw Ron, Harry, and Ginny  
near the fireplace. She hurried towards them.

"What's going on?" Hermione asked the group. As Head Girl, she felt that she should  
know firsthand about anything that was happening inside the school. Especially about  
anything that did not look good.

"Dumbledore announced over breakfast that classes are cancelled for today. It's a day  
off for students. He said that there'll be an emergency faculty meeting," Harry replied.

"About what?" Hermione pressed on.

"He didn't say why. But we all know pretty much the reason, I guess…" Ron's voice  
trailed off.

A gloomy silence fell on the little group for a few moments. They all know that whatever  
the reason for the meeting, it was most probably connected to You-Know-Who. You-  
Know-Who was a strong force nowadays and they all feel that an all-out war was just  
around the corner.

"I know Voldemort's gaining power. Do you think he's going to attack Hogwarts?"  
Ginny asked anxiously to no on in particular. A shudder went up Hermione's spine  
upon hearing the Dark Lord's name. Ginny, having survived an encounter with the Dark  
Lord when she was in her first year, opted to call the Dark Lord by his proper name,  
just like Harry did. Hermione should have been used to it by now, being friends with  
both Harry and Ginny, but the proper name always brought a very slight chill down  
her spine.

"I really don't know, but Hogwarts is a safe place…though my scar hurt again last  
night," Harry answered heavily.

Hermione turned directly to Harry and said in an authoritative manner. "Harry, did you  
tell Professor Dumbledore about that? He should know!"

"He already told Dumbledore, Hermione. He had enough foresight to do that on his  
own," Ron could not help but quip. "And You-Know-Who can't be near now, because  
Harry would've known. Right, Harry?"

Despite of the gravity of the situation, Hermione could not help but shoot Ron a deadly  
glare.

"Do you think I did the right thing, though? I don't want them whipping up a frenzy over  
nothing. The teachers have their hands full already as it is," Harry said.

Ron, Ginny, and Hermione almost simultaneously cried out, "Of course you did!"

Hermione sat on the armrest of the chair Ginny was sitting on. "We know it's You-Know-  
Who, but we don't know what he'll do next to reach his sick, twisted goal. It's hard when  
we don't exactly know what we're fighting against," Hermione said tiredly.

Everyone in the little group knew the unfortunate truth of Hermione's statement.

"We'll just have to be careful and ready. But we're still in Hogwarts. This is the safest  
place we can be in," Harry said.

That was at least a consolation.

"But after we graduate…" Ron shook his head, as if trying to clear his mind of unpleasant  
possibilities. "Whatever happens, I'll be an Auror. That's the only thing I want to do. This  
is what Dad would have wanted me to do," Ron's voice cracked a little at the mention of  
his dead father. Ginny looked away, biting down her trembling lower lip.

When they were in fifth year, Mr. Weasley died fighting at the hands of some Death Eaters.  
It was during a raid initiated by Mr. Weasley—a raid of Death Eater hideouts. He died a  
hero, but the Weasley family was never the same again. The death had the most devastating  
impact on Ron and Ginny.

"I'd be an Auror, too. That's also the thing I want to do. That's the right thing to do for  
me," Harry said resolutely.

Another silence fell on the group for a minute. It was not an awkward silence—it was a  
comfortable silence that only friends could share. However, it was getting heavier by the  
second, and each felt the need to cheer up the others from such a sad mood.

Ron was the first to break the ice. "Harry, after graduation…you'll be able to keep the  
motorbike Sirius gave you for your fifteenth birthday! Mrs. Figg doesn't have to keep it  
for you."

Harry brightened up a bit. "Yeah, it's about time. Mrs. Figg has been keeping it for the  
last two years! And to think it's mine," Harry said with a little laugh. "Well, if she did not  
keep it, the Dursleys would've taken it away from me," Harry continued.

"Hey, maybe I could ride it, eh?" Hermione smiled. She wanted to make the mood lighter.

"Yeah, me too! I haven't ridden it yet," Ginny said, a glimmer of excitement in her brown  
eyes.

"Of course!" Harry said promptly.

"Ey, Harry, do you think ol' Arabella—er, Mrs. Figg rides on your motorbike every now  
and then?" Ron asked mischievously.

"She's an old witch, Ron. A motorbike doesn't suit her," Ginny said as she swatted her  
brother's arm affectionately.

"Well, she's pretty cool, even though she's weird. I mean, she was part of Dumbledore's  
espionage! That's cool!" Ron said, putting emphasis on "espionage".

"Yeah, pretending to be a muggle for many years and babysitting me when I was a kid  
is cool! Oh, what glamour!" Harry said mockingly at Ron. But of course, everyone knew  
that he did so just to tease Ron. Harry was forever grateful to Mrs. Figg, who he  
considered a friend.

The little group burst into laughter, a laughter that lifted their spirits a bit. It was well indeed,  
for that was what they needed the most at the time.

A few hours later, at the Headmaster's office, Dumbledore was alone, sitting at his desk.  
The Pensieve was on his table, and he was brooding over it.

So many thoughts swam in his head that he felt that it would do him good to think with a  
less cluttered and clearer brain. What happened earlier at dawn was something that demanded  
his full attention and deep thinking.

It was bad enough that the Dark Mark on Severus's arm was more prominent than ever.  
Not to mention that Harry's scar had hurt again. Dumbledore thought that things were  
alarming enough with those occurrences. However, when he walked into his office at  
the break of dawn, he saw a green snake slithering on the floor. The snake was aiming  
a bite at Fawkes, Dumbledore's phoenix. But before it could bite, the snake saw him,  
and it turned its red glowing eyes at him. Dumbledore knew at once that the snake was  
not a regular snake. What would a snake do in his office? And how could he forget that  
the snake was Voldemort's avatar?

Before Dumbledore could do anything, the snake disappeared. It did not just slither out.  
It disappeared into thin air.

It was definitely not a normal muggle snake; it was not even an average magical snake.  
For it to disappear like that from Hogwarts, it had to be strong Dark Magic.

Dumbledore knew that it could be a sign form the Dark Side, signaling an event which  
Dumbledore never wished to happen—an all-out war. That was what the Dark Side  
wanted all along, and it was no surprise that the Dark Side would be the offensive.

The whole Hogwarts faculty shared his interpretation and apprehension, as he discovered  
during the faculty meeting he had called for earlier.

They had to be ready and able to fight, because maybe…

Maybe Hogwarts was not as safe as they believed it was.

* * *


	6. Chapter 6

**_Chapter 6_**

It was already late in the morning when Harry decided to visit Hagrid. Ron and  
Hermione came along, but Ginny chose to stay behind in the common room to  
finish some essays.

As the trio walked down the castle corridors towards the oak front doors, they  
talked about what the emergency meeting was all about.

"They just might be talking about changing the decorations in the Great Hall," Ron  
reasoned.

Harry groaned and Hermione rolled her eyes at Ron.

"If you're both so smart, then tell me what it's all about!" Ron retorted, gesturing  
towards Harry and Hermione.

"We're going to ask Hagrid. That's why we're going to his hut," Harry explained  
in a voice he would use when talking to a five-year-old child.

"Or as a last resort, maybe we can just ask Professor McGonagall," Hermione piped in.

Suddenly Ron's face lit up. "Or maybe we can just ask Dumbledore. I can't believe  
both of you didn't think of that," Ron said with a pitying look at his friends.

Harry and Hermione were about to make a snappy comeback, but Ron's suggestion  
got them thinking. It was such a basic thing to do, but amidst all speculations, it did not  
cross their minds at all.

But now Hermione was being her usual calculating self. "That's a great idea, but it's  
easier to ask Hagrid because he's our friend. But if we ask Professor Dumbledore, it  
will seem like we're intruding, you know. It's like we're meddling with other people's  
businesses," Hermione explained.

"But if it's about You-Know-Who, then it's Harry's business! At least he's got the  
right to know. But if it isn't, then Dumbledore can just tell Harry that it's none of his  
business. It's better than wondering," Ron explained back.

"I hate to admit this, Ron, but I think you're right," Hermione said slowly, suppressing  
a smile that was tugging at the corners of her lips.

Harry spoke up. "Okay, c'mon, let's go to Dumbledore's office and ask him." Harry  
started up in the opposite direction and sped up his walking.

But Hermione and Ron stopped in their tracks. Harry looked behind him and saw both  
of them looking uncertainly at him.

"Why, what's the matter?" Harry asked.

"Uh, Harry, I think that you should be the one to ask Professor Dumbledore.  
The fewer who'll ask him, the less it will seem like an intrusion," Hermione said.  
She obviously still had hesitations about asking the Headmaster.

"Yeah, Harry. And among us, you're the one who has the most right to know if it's  
about You-Know-Who," Ron explained.

Ron and Hermione intently watched Harry as he thought over the matter.

"If Dumbledore throws me out for being too nosy, I'll get you both for this," Harry said  
lightly with a smile on his face.

"Dumbledore's a jolly good fellow. He'll never throw anyone out just for being too  
nosy," Ron reassured Harry.

"Unless you're Rita Skeeter," Hermione said with contempt. She still loathed Rita  
Skeeter for all her false scoops back in fourth year. "Anyway, Harry, people shouldn't  
know that you're asking Professor Dumbledore, coz they'll ask you—no, rather, us—in  
turn. Between Dumbledore and us, students will prefer to talk to us because you've got  
to admit that no matter how kind Professor Dumbledore is, he's pretty much intimidating.  
I don't know about you two, but I'm not up to explaining everything to everyone,"  
Hermione continued as they started to walk to the Headmaster's office.

"But I thought you like doing that…" Ron said seriously.

"What?" Hermione asked.

"Explaining everything to everyone. That's why you're a volunteer tutor and Head Girl,  
right?" Ron said.

Harry tried to keep his laughter in. Ron was hopelessly tactless especially when  
Hermione was involved. Maybe having his foot in his mouth was Ron's own weird way  
to show affection. But didn't Ron see how he sometimes—no, often—upsets Hermione?

To Harry's surprise, Hermione sighed deeply and a faraway look settled on her face.  
"I-I just have a lot of things in mind lately," she said softly, more like to herself than to  
either Ron or Harry. Ron and Harry gave her odd looks. "I mean, with final exams,  
graduation, and everything," she added quickly, mentally brushing away a picture of  
Malfoy's face, which suddenly popped up in her mind. _'Where the hell did that come_  
_from?' _she thought.

Harry looked at her understandingly. "I guess you're right. We have lots of things to  
worry about school as it is without dealing with Voldemort—er—You-Know-Who,"  
Harry said quickly upon seeing Ron's and Hermione's horrified expressions when they  
heard him call the Dark Lord by his proper name. Personally, he wanted to call  
Voldemort as Voldemort, because for Harry, calling Voldemort as You-Know-Who  
was a sign of fear. He vowed to himself that he would fight, and not fear, Voldemort.

They walked in silence, greeting and smiling at the people they know who passed them  
by. The trio was about to turn a corner when they bumped into Ernie Macmillan and  
Hannah Abbott, both from Hufflepuff, who were leaning against the wall. Harry, Ron,  
and Hermione knew Ernie and Hannah from Herbology class.

"Oh, sorry Hermione!" Hannah said frantically as she held on to Hermione's shoulder to  
keep herself from falling.

Hannah regained her balance but she looked fidgety and nervous. Ernie, who had not  
been outbalanced by the collision, also looked strangely uneasy.

"Hi Harry, Ron, Hermione," Hannah said meekly.

"Oh, hello guys! Where are you going?" Ernie said in a seemingly forced cheerful voice.

It was the trios' turn to become uneasy. They were so near the Headmaster's office.  
Surely it must have been obvious that they were going there.

"I'm just doing rounds, you know. Part of job as Head Girl. Harry and Ron just  
accompanied me," Hermione said as convincingly as she could. "How about you?  
What were you doing here?" Hermione asked that to simply change the topic, but  
Ernie and Hannah did not take it too well. Hannah blushed to the up roots of her  
blond hair and Ernie broke out in a nervous sweat.

Harry was beginning to think that the two of them were attacked or they might have  
seen something odd and suspicious but Ernie suddenly spoke up.

"About what you saw, that is, if you've seen anything…" Ernie's voice trailed off. He  
turned beet red.

"Yes?" Hermione prompted.

"You see, Hermione, we—er—oh, it was just a kiss. And we're going back to our  
common room. Surely you won't tell a teacher?" Hannah nervously asked Hermione.

"Oh…! I didn't see anything anyway. But sure, no problem. There's no one along the  
corridor where you were—er—standing anyway," Hermione said brightly. "Just don't  
wander around, and don't let Professor McGonagall and the first years see you,"  
Hermione added. Professor McGonagall enforced a no-loitering-inside-the-campus  
rule, and a rather strange no-public-displays-of-affection-in-front-of-children rule  
(most likely the children referred to were first year to third year students) to avoid  
"moral degeneration", as Professor McGonagall had put it.

Hannah smiled gratefully and Ernie sighed in relief. Then they hurriedly passed by the  
trio to get away from them as fast as possible.

When Hannah and Ernie were out of earshot, Ron said, "They've been snogging! Too  
bad I didn't see it. Who knew that they had more to hide than we do?" Then he let out  
a laugh.

Harry, whose lips were twitching earlier, joined in the laughter. "That's some great  
story you came up with," he said to Hermione in between gasps.

"You sound just like Percy—'I'm just doing rounds. Part of job—' " Ron could not  
continue talking; he was laughing so hard.

Hermione rolled her eyes again at the two young men. "Oh grow up!" She threw her  
hands up in frustration. "C'mon you guys. Let's get a move on." And Hermione walked  
ahead.

Harry and Ron sobered up immediately and followed her. They had not forgotten that  
Hermione was a serious and responsible Head Girl. She could take points off and worse,  
maybe punish them if they really got on her nerves.

A minute later they were within proximity of a large and extremely ugly stone gargoyle.

"Do you know the password?" Harry asked Hermione. As Head Girl, she had frequently  
visited the Headmaster's office, and Dumbledore, being the trusting man that he was, gave  
the password to Hermione.

"Yes. It's _'toffee-chocolate éclair'_. Professor Dumbledore seems to have a liking for  
muggle sweets," Hermione informed her friends.

"Yeah. I heard that he loves those muggle lemon drops," said Ron.

Harry started to walk nearer to the gargoyle when Hermione grabbed the right sleeve  
of his robes. "Wait! Wait! Harry, if Professor Dumbledore asks you how you got in,  
just tell him that it's because I gave you the password. If he gets angry about it—but I  
don't think he will, I hope—tell him that I'll just explain everything to him," Hermione  
said, still clutching Harry's sleeve.

"Okay, Hermione. You can let go of me now," Harry said, and Hermione quickly released  
the cloth with an "Oops, sorry!"

Harry walked towards the gargoyle. "Hey guys, I'm going in. Wait for me here." Harry  
said to Ron and Hermione. Then he turned to the entrance. "Here goes…toffee-chocolate  
éclair!" Harry said to the gargoyle.

The gargoyle immediately sprung to life and moved aside to reveal the splitting wall behind.

Harry went inside and stepped onto a spiral staircase that was moving upward; as he did  
so, the split wall closed behind him.

The staircase rose up in circles until it reached a polished oak door ahead. Harry lifted the  
griffin-shaped brass-knocker and knocked on the door. It quietly opened and he entered  
the large circular room. Harry remembered his first visit to Dumbledore's office, when he  
was back in second year, after Justin Finch-Fletchey was Petrified. He had been in here a  
few times ever since then. He looked around and saw the same queer silver instruments  
standing on spindle-legged tables, letting out little puffs of smoke. Lining the walls were  
portraits of former headmasters and headmistresses. Behind him, Fawkes was squawking  
noisily on its golden perch behind the door. Harry's eyes settled on the huge claw-footed  
desk, which was Dumbledore's, and saw the Headmaster sitting on his high chair. Suddenly,  
Harry wished he were somewhere else. What would he say to Dumbledore without sounding  
nosy and intruding? Aside from that, Harry was not supposed to know the password to the  
Headmaster's office. Harry felt like he did an illegal break-in. Dumbledore was a kind,  
accommodating, and understanding man, but that did not mean that Harry wanted to abuse  
his kindness.

Dumbledore smiled at Harry and his light-blue eyes peered at him through his half-moon  
spectacles. "Good morning, Harry. Take a seat. What can I do for you?" he asked in a  
gentle, fatherly voice. Harry sat in one of the chairs in front of the desk. It seemed that  
Harry's presence at the moment was perfectly natural for Dumbledore.

"Is your scar still hurting?" Dumbledore asked him urgently as soon as Harry took a seat.

"No, it doesn't hurt anymore. Er, Professor, I'm sorry to disturb you, but I'm here to  
ask you something…" Harry's voice trailed off. He suddenly felt stupid. What if Ron  
was right? _'What if the faculty was just talking about changing the decorations in_  
_the Great Hall?'_ he wildly thought for a moment.

But Dumbledore seemed to have an uncanny ability to read one's mind. "It's about  
the emergency faculty meeting I called for earlier, isn't it? I think you're wondering if  
it has any to do with Voldemort. In fact, the whole student body might be wondering  
the same thing as well," Dumbledore said.

"Um, yes, Professor," Harry replied. "That was what I wanted to ask, if you don't  
mind. And yes, the whole school is wondering about the same thing," he clarified.

Dumbledore stroked his long beard thoughtfully. "Of course Harry. I don't mind.  
But there's really not much to know. We both know the danger that we've all been  
in since Voldemort's rise to power two years ago, Harry. I'm sad to say that there  
isn't much improvement favouring our side," Dumbledore said.

Harry nodded imperceptibly and listened intently to every word the Headmaster  
was saying.

"But it doesn't necessarily mean that things got worse. I just think it's important to  
take necessary precautions against possible courses of Voldemort's actions. Cliché  
as it may sound, Harry, but it's better to expect the unexpected, and prepare for it,"  
Dumbledore continued.

Harry felt that he should not bother Dumbledore any further. The kind old man looked  
weary and far older than ever despite of the light tone of his voice. Harry stood up from  
his seat and was about to say goodbye when Dumbledore said, "You children have  
enough troubles of your own with school and your personal lives. Let old people like  
me do the worrying. I have enough wrinkles already; another one will not make much  
difference," Dumbledore said with a chuckle from his lips and a twinkle in his eyes.

Harry smiled at Dumbledore's joke before speaking. "Thank you, professor. And I'm  
sorry for the bother. I've got to get back to the common room now. Good day," Harry  
said. He felt that Dumbledore would not say anything more to him about the matter.

The Headmaster smiled. "Good day to you too, Harry. Just wait for my announcements  
at lunchtime," he said. "And please tell Ms. Granger that I don't mind her giving you the  
password to my office. I trust her judgement," Dumbledore added.

Harry walked out the door and stepped on the stationary spiral staircase, which revved  
downwards as soon as his foot touched a step. As the staircase moved in circles, he  
could not help but think that Dumbledore knew more… but Harry had always felt safe  
when Dumbledore was around. If Dumbledore said that there was nothing to worry  
about, Harry would take his word for it. Besides, Hogwarts was the safest place he  
could be in.

A good half an hour after Harry had left, Dumbledore, sitting on his high chair, was still  
mulling over what he said to the young wizard. What Dumbledore said to Harry was not  
the whole truth. But then again, the Headmaster didn't know the whole truth himself. He  
didn't understand what happened earlier. It was not an attack, or maybe it was—attempted  
on Fawkes, it seemed. But why only Fawkes? Or was it a message? But about what? He  
did not know. He only knew two things—one, it was the work of Voldemort; two,  
Voldemort had access to Hogwarts. The snake was enough evidence. If it was not,  
Harry's scar had hurt; Severus's Dark Mark had glowed clearer than ever.

He sighed. He wondered if anyone noticed that he felt so tired, so old…and at times,  
so jaded. He worked hard on covering it up. Dumbledore knew that many people  
trusted him and depended on him for help. He wouldn't want them to know that, lately,  
he was just as unsure of what was happening as anyone. It was not a matter of pride.  
Dumbledore was not the type of person who was afraid to admit his own weaknesses.  
Rather, it was a matter of the sense of hope which people had when he was around.  
The present was the calm before the storm, and danger could strike unexpectedly from  
anywhere. Dumbledore did not have the heart to deprive the people of the hope that  
they were not fighting in vain.

Out of all the people Dumbledore wanted to protect, he wanted to protect most the  
Hogwarts students. The students were young, and had the right to be carefree and  
light-hearted. They were the least deserving to be subjected to horror. He wanted the  
adults to shoulder the task of ensuring safety, so as to spare the students from fear  
and terror.

That was why Dumbledore vowed to himself that he would take all necessary  
precautions to make Hogwarts safer, so life for the students could continue as  
normally as possible.

The students gathered in the Great Hall around noon. It was lunch time already. Plates  
of sumptuous food and goblets of refreshing drinks appeared on the table. Everyone was  
about to take a spoonful of some dish into their plates when Dumbledore stood up from  
his seat at the staff table and loudly clapped his hands. The Great Hall quieted down except  
for a few murmurs from students who started talking in low voices.

Dumbledore cleared his throat, and everyone fell silent. "Before we indulge ourselves in  
this delicious meal, I have a few announcements to make." He paused, and every pair of  
eyes was fixed on him.

"As you all know, classes are suspended today. I was occupied, so I failed to tell your  
Head of Houses to inform you earlier at breakfast the reason why. Because of that, I'm  
afraid that rumours are circulating around school. Rumours of attack, and maybe of  
even worse things." Dumbledore looked around gravely. No one stirred as yet.

"There is no need to worry, even though I'm not denying that we should always be in  
the lookout. The faculty meeting held earlier is just for discussing further safety precautions.  
We can never be too safe, so we are putting our efforts together to make Hogwarts safer  
than it already is. Everything is under control," Dumbledore said, forcing himself to make  
a small smile for the benefit of everyone. "Now, make good use of your free time today—  
maybe catch up on your lessons, do your homework, read for future topics, or have good  
clean fun," he continued lightly.

Immediately, almost all students sighed with relief, except for students at the Slytherin  
table, almost all of whom were looking sulky.

"Regular classes will resume tomorrow," Dumbledore said, which was met by a few groans  
of protest. "Now, now, we shouldn't forget about school, even though a day-off is perfectly  
enjoyable." He directed his comment to the protesting students. "That's it for announcements!  
We can now start the satisfying task of eating this wonderful meal," Dumbledore said with a  
clap of his hands.

All students, and even the teachers, started to help themselves with food and began eating.  
Soon, the Great Hall was filled with laughter, talk, and the clattering sounds of tableware.  
The mood was definitely lighter after Dumbledore's assurance.

Dumbledore looked on at the merry scene and ate quietly. No one seemed to notice just  
how grave the Headmaster looked, except for Severus Snape and Minerva McGonagall—  
the only faculty who knew the complete and absolute truth—who kept shooting concerned  
looks at him. Dumbledore caught both their eyes and forced another smile just to assure  
them that he felt fine.

Draco didn't feel like eating anything at all. He was hungry a few minutes before, but after  
Dumbledore's announcement, he felt that he suddenly lost his appetite. He felt annoyed  
and slightly mad. He didn't know exactly who or what he was angry and annoyed with…  
maybe it was with Dumbledore's statement that "There is no need to worry…everything  
is under control." Draco also felt disappointed and frustrated.

He was not the only one. Most of the Slytherins were sharing his same sentiments. An  
angry and disappointed murmur travelled the Slytherin table.

"Nothing exciting ever happens here. My father could kick Dumbledore's ass," Goyle  
said while stuffing his face with filet mignon. Crabbe grunted in agreement.

Draco fleetingly thought how Goyle could make a gourmet dish like filet mignon seem like  
chicken feed with the way he was eating it. Then, his attention was caught by Millicent.

"When will the Dark Lord attack Hogwarts and rid this school of mudbloods?" Millicent  
asked to no one in particular.

Draco didn't care to make a remark. His eyes wandered to the other tables and saw  
students laughing and talking happily. His eyes then focused on the Gryffindor table and  
saw the sickening trio—Granger, Weasley, and Potter—with happy smiles on their  
faces. Then Draco's eyes fixed back on his table, which was filled with sulking students.  
_'Stupid Gryffindors! Stupid people!! You fools!! How naïve can you get?'_ he  
thought resentfully. He suddenly stood up from his seat, which was the head of the table.

"Where are you going? You haven't eaten yet," Crabbe said through a mouthful of food.  
Most of the Slytherins looked at Draco.

"Back to the dorm. I suddenly lost my appetite with all the _disgusting_ things around  
here," he said with a gesture of his hand towards the other house tables.

"No one will be there. Everyone's here," Goyle said before gulping down the juice  
in his goblet.

"I don't mind," was Draco's reply. _'Better that way,' _he added to himself.

"Suit yourself," Goyle said with a shrug as Draco walked toward the door of the  
Great Hall.

Draco stopped for a moment at the door of the Great hall and looked back at Goyle.  
"I always do," Draco said loudly, and he stepped out of the Great Hall.

Then he walked slowly down the empty corridors, frustrated with the fact that the  
Dark Lord kept to his original plan to cause a distraction, and nothing more. It was  
indeed a great plan—distract Dumbledore, direct his attention to Hogwarts and attack  
somewhere else—somewhere just as important. It would be soon, and unexpected.  
It was, as usual, another one of the Dark Lord's excellent schemes. But Draco  
wished that in the very least, Nagini—Voldemort's 'pet' snake—have bitten Dumbledore  
or any of the filthy Mudbloods around school. Nagini could have done it, but based on  
what Draco saw at the Great Hall, he highly doubted it. Oh well, the Dark Lord always  
did what was best according to plan. Lord Voldemort could have been successful for a  
long time now, if only the nuisance Potter had not gotten in the way.

Draco was already at the dark dungeons leading to the Slytherin dormitory when he  
heard footsteps behind him. He stopped, turned and saw Pansy running after him. A  
moment later Pansy caught up with him.

"Draco, what's wrong? Why didn't you eat lunch?" Pansy's eyes were filled with  
concern. She placed a hand on Draco's left sleeve.

"Didn't you hear what I said earlier to Crabbe? I can't eat after that Dumbledore's  
disgusting 'don't worry' speech," Draco said irritably as he shook off Pansy's hand  
and walked ahead of her.

Either Pansy was really unbelievably dense or just relentlessly determined, because  
she ignored Draco's irritation and gesture and continued talking to him. "Yeah. I sure  
wish Lord Voldemort would get it over with and kill all the stupid Muggles and  
Mudbloods in the whole world," she said spitefully.

Again, Draco stopped abruptly and turned to look at Pansy, this time with an expression  
of deep anger on his face. He walked back to Pansy and roughly grabbed her right arm.  
His fingers dug deep in her skin, and Pansy winced in pain.

"Draco, wha-what? Let me go! You're hurting me!" Pansy shrieked as a sharp pain  
clawed at her wrist. She was struggling but Draco was too strong for her. His grip was  
too tight.

"For once, shut up! Dammit!" Draco muttered as he dragged her towards the Slytherin  
dormitory. The tone of Draco's voice was laced with venom. Pansy immediately stopped  
struggling. Seconds later they reached a stretch of bare, damp stone wall—the entrance  
of the Slytherin common room. _"Virtù!"_ Draco said, and a stone door concealed in the  
wall slid open wide. Draco quickly went inside, still dragging Pansy by the arm.

As soon as they got in and the stone door closed behind them, Draco released his grip  
on Pansy with a slight throwing gesture. Pansy fell back on a high-backed chair with a  
painful impact from her momentum.

"Dammit, Pansy! Don't talk about these things when we aren't in here or at the Slytherin  
table! Don't forget that in general, this school is against Lord Voldemort! We don't know  
if there are spies in this school!" Draco hissed as he turned to look at Pansy.

Pansy looked at him in surprise. "But why? Nobody else was there down at the dungeons  
to hear us. That is Slytherin territory. We'll be heard only by the other Slytherins and Snape,"  
Pansy reasoned.

Draco's face darkened. "Slytherin isn't necessarily equivalent to Dark Side, Pansy. There  
are Slytherins who aren't supporters of the Dark Lord. Sure, they're neutral, but I've got a  
strong hunch that they keep quiet because they're outnumbered. One of those few stupid  
people is Blaise Zabini," Draco explained in his usual low voice.

"What do we care about those Slytherin minorities? They don't have much say on the  
matter, anyway," Pansy reasoned again.

"We aren't sure if they aren't more what they seem, Pansy. And as for Snape! What  
makes you think he isn't working for the other side?" Draco exclaimed exasperatedly,  
the sound reverberating from the walls.

"Snape favours Slytherins! You're his favourite student! He always gives us points and  
takes points off from the lousy Gryffindors!" Pansy defended her favourite teacher.

"Have you ever heard of deceit, Pansy?" Draco sneered at her.

"Draco! Cut it out! You're being paranoid!" Pansy exclaimed as she stood from the  
chair to face Draco. Obviously, she had not thought twice before talking. All other  
Slytherins—and for that matter, the whole student body, except for the nauseating  
trio—dared not to raise their voices to Draco if they knew what was good for them.

But for now Draco let it pass. He wanted so badly to tell her that Snape was a spy, a  
traitor. Snape used to be a Death Eater but for some reason, he turned over to the other  
side to work for no less than Dumbledore. As he looked at Pansy, he wondered if she  
would finally understand the necessity of secrecy and discretion once she found about  
Snape. But if Draco told Pansy about Snape, Pansy would know that he knew a lot of  
things that they were not supposed to know…and from there, it would be easy for other  
people, and even for Pansy, to figure out that he was already a Death Eater. He was  
sure that Pansy would become an official follower of the Dark Lord after graduation,  
but that did not mean that she had to know about him now. No, he would not tell  
Pansy anything, not even about Snape. Draco did not think that Pansy could understand  
and be quiet about a huge secret.

It was a pity, really. Although Pansy was not stunning or gorgeous or angelic-looking,  
she was pretty with her sharp, strong features. People would have noticed that she could  
look more than decent if she did not scowl at them all the time. As Pansy reserved her  
best smiles for Draco, he had the pleasure to see her beauty. He often wondered how  
someone gifted with dominatrix good looks could actually be a valley girl. What a shame.  
_'If only she had brains, even at least half of the brains of that Grang—anyone_  
_smart,'_ Draco thought.

Draco was quiet, and the expression on his face was calculating. Pansy must have  
thought that Draco was really angry at her and was thinking hexes to use on her because  
she spoke up in a soft, timid voice. "I-I'm sorry about that. It's just that-you know, I  
don't want you to worry yourself out thinking over things that are uncertain," she said,  
frightened yet sincere.

Draco waved a hand dismissively. "Forget that we even had this conversation. Remember  
just one thing. Discretion," he said coldly. Pansy nodded meekly. Satisfied, Draco turned  
on his heels and went to the boys' dormitory for his room, leaving Pansy all alone in the  
common room.

Pansy looked sadly after Draco. Once again, she ended up looking like a fool—as  
usual—in front of him. She sat on a high-backed chair and hugged her legs to her chest,  
resting her chin on her knees. She looked forlornly at the fireplace, the tears threatening  
to fall from her eyes. But she did her best to hold them in.

She sighed. She knew that Draco thought of her as an airhead. She had accepted the  
fact that she was not particularly bright, but she was not as stupid as Draco believed  
her to be. She just ignored the fact that he took her for granted. Most of the time he was  
politely cold towards her, but there were times when he would use sharp words on her.  
They stung, horribly, but she let them pass. She was not stupid enough not to know that  
Draco was pushing her away all the time. But then again, maybe she really was stupid  
because…

…she loved him.

She liked him the first time they met, back in first year. She realized she was beginning to  
love him when he was bitten by a hippogriff back in third year, during one Care of Magical  
Creatures class. She was surprised with the worry, panic, and fear she felt when she saw  
Draco bleeding all over his robes. The tenderness she felt for him caught her off-guard.

It was just bad luck for her that Draco Malfoy seemed incapable of loving. Even if he  
was, Pansy wasn't successful in making him fall for her. For seven years, she was by his  
side, but she never got past beyond those cold eyes. Sure, they were each other's dates  
in all school functions, and they went out once in a while. But when they were together,  
Draco was distant. Sure, they slept together sometimes. It meant the world to Pansy,  
but for Draco, it was no more than causal sex. And what made it more difficult for her  
was the fact that Draco slept around with lots of women. Words could not describe the  
unbearable pain she felt just thinking about Draco with another woman intimately. It made  
her want to throw up.

_'How ironic. Pansy Parkinson, the school's resident bitch, is reduced to a silly_  
_lovesick girl,'_ she thought bitterly. She hated feeling this way, but Draco made her feel  
it. _'If only people can see me now…but they can't, and I will not let them.' _That  
was at least a little bit of consolation for her.

She abruptly stopped her sad thoughts as she stood up from the seat. She decided to  
go back to the Great Hall and join her friends to have a little bit of fun—make lives  
miserable for Gryffindors, maybe— instead of wallowing in self-pity here, alone. Once  
again, a cold, hard expression settled on her face.

But not before a single, stubborn tear rolled down her cheek.


	7. Chapter 7

**_Chapter 7_**

Severus Snape scowled at his reflection in the mirror. He wasn't used to seeing himself  
looking like this. Heck, he had never seen himself looking like this, not even in his imagination.

"You should try looking like that always. It suits you," crooned the mirror to him.

Shut up. I'll break you to pieces," Severus snarled while patting his ponytail a bit  
self-consciously. Personally, he liked his hair the way it was—loose and free. But  
Dumbledore said that if he wouldn't tie his hair in a ponytail, he would have to have  
it cut short so he could look like an average middle-aged muggle. Severus would  
never have his hair cut short, so he opted for the ponytail grudgingly.

"I was just giving you a compliment," the mirror reasoned in a very small voice,  
apparently afraid of Severus.

Severus quickly reached for his wand inside the deep pocket of his slacks. He pointed  
the tip of his wand at the mirror. "One more peep from you, and you'll know how well  
I keep my word," he muttered darkly. He then pocketed his wand again with a bit of  
difficulty. He hardly wore slacks, because he preferred wearing robes. He was wearing  
muggle clothes today—black slacks, charcoal-gray long-sleeved polo, and black leather  
shoes—only at Dumbledore's insistence. Severus was going to a muggle place today,  
and he had to look the part of a muggle. He looked back at the mirror again for one glance,  
checking to make sure that he convincingly looked like a muggle. Fortunately, the mirror  
kept quiet.

He looked at his muggle watch. It was half-past three already. He went out of his sleeping  
quarters in the dungeons and started out for the school's front doors.

Severus was going to visit #2 Magnolia Crescent—a muggle place—for business matters.  
This was where Arabella Figg lived, just a couple of streets where the Dursleys lived.  
Arabella was sent as a muggle to Magnolia Crescent by Dumbledore after Harry was left  
with the Dursleys almost seventeen years ago to provide the protection Harry needed.  
Hiding in the muggle world was far easier than hiding in the wizarding world. In the muggle  
world, a spell can work stronger because there was no magic in the air that could interfere.  
Also, Dumbledore believed that hiding was what Harry needed the most before he reached  
the appropriate starting age for Hogwarts. If Harry grew up in the wizarding world, he  
could possibly grow up being a spoiled brat, because he was famous and everything. In  
Severus's opinion, however, the Potter kid was as spoiled as a kid could get. He always  
got away with any trouble he brewed up. And not only did the Potter kid get away, he  
even got rewards for breaking rules.

Even after Harry turned eleven and left for Hogwarts, Arabella stayed at Magnolia  
Crescent to continue providing protection for Harry during summers. And it was not  
only Harry who she was looking after. Unaware to the Dursleys, Arabella looked  
after them everyday even though Harry was at school. And so for almost seventeen  
years Arabella had worked undercover.

He sighed heavily. Arabella was not the only one who was working undercover. He  
was, too. After the tragic Triwizard Tournament three years ago, he did what he had  
to do—return to Voldemort, pretending to be a follower who was willing to spy on  
Dumbledore. But in reality, it was the other way around—he was sent by Dumbledore  
to spy on the Dark Side. It was difficult to convince Voldemort that he was still a  
faithful servant. Severus was never accepted again in Voldemort's inner circle of Death  
Eaters, but nevertheless, he was recognized as his follower…or was he? Severus  
found the way Voldemort treated him as strange. The Dark Lord didn't give him  
information or tasks, didn't call him for meetings or anything of the sort, and didn't  
tell him of plans. The Dark Lord didn't even ask information from him, considering  
that Severus was supposed to be spying on Dumbledore. It was very rare when  
Voldemort would summon Severus—and whenever the Dark Lord would summon him,  
it was just to administer the Cruciatus Curse on him, for the supposedly unsatisfactory  
jobs Severus did. He smirked. What jobs? The Dark Lord didn't give him jobs.  
Voldemort was just using that as an excuse to put him under the Cruciatus Curse. It was  
as though he was just a Death Eater by name, and not by virtue. Sometimes, he felt that  
Voldemort knew that he was a fraud, and that the Dark Lord was just playing with him.

Severus didn't want to think of what Voldemort did to his 'toys' after getting bored with  
them, but an image of Igor Karkaroff floated in his mind. He remembered how Igor tried  
to flee into hiding, but Voldemort caught him. After that, the Dark Lord subjected Karkaroff  
to the Imperius Curse. For a time, he treated Karkaroff as a form of amusement, subjecting  
him to humiliating gymnastics. And then Karkaroff died. It had been a headline in the Daily  
Prophet—Igor Karkaroff committed suicide by cutting himself up into pieces, and his body  
parts were strewn all around his bloodied disembodied torso. But Severus knew that it had  
not been suicide. In the end, Voldemort used the same Imperius Curse to force Karkaroff to  
kill himself, slowly, painfully, and brutally.

He was lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice that he had reached the front door already.  
He pushed open the huge oak door, and stepped outside the flight of stone steps. It was a  
bright and sunny day, and many students were at the grassy grounds and lawns of the  
school, walking and playing around as if it was a Sunday picnic. He gulped nervously. He  
was not supposed to go out under the sun. He knew the consequences, but he dared to  
risk using the potion to protect him from the rays if the sun which would be fatal to him.  
The potion worked at all the times he had used it before, during the rare times he went  
outside during daylight. Still, today was exceptionally sunny. He shook his head. He made  
the Sunshield Potion strong this time. And he was an expert when it came to potions. He  
had trust in his own abilities.

"Severus, where are you off to in those clothes? And in broad daylight, too!" An incredulous  
voice cut through Severus's trail of thoughts.

Severus had been gazing afar at the school grounds, and then he abruptly looked directly  
in front of him upon hearing the voice. He saw Remus Lupin standing before him a couple  
of steps down. Lupin was dressed in simple black robes and was carrying a suitcase. On  
his face was a mixture of surprise and amusement upon seeing Severus in such a get-up.

Severus looked at him with disdain. _'He just has to bring it up,'_ he sarcastically thought.  
Lupin had found out about him the night Dumbledore talked to both of them after the  
Whomping Willow incident way back in their school days. It was the main reason why  
Severus kept quiet about Lupin being a werewolf all these years.

"I see that you're back from your Auror-training seminar from Spain, Lupin," he drawled.

"Oh yes I am. It has been a busy week, but it was good meeting other Aurors and trainees  
from around the world, because we all need to work together," Lupin said pleasantly. Then  
he looked at the school grounds. "I tried to get back before four in the afternoon so I can at  
least teach the Hufflepuffs today, but it seems that classes are suspended. Why?" Lupin asked.

Severus never grew to like Lupin even after three years of working together for the Light  
Side, but he remembered what Dumbledore said earlier to Minerva and him. They alone—  
Dumbledore, Minerva, or Severus—should explain everything to Lupin as soon as he came  
back from his seminar. So with a heavy heart, he explained to Lupin everything that  
happened earlier in the morning.

And as a conclusion, Severus said, "I am off to Arabella Figg. It turns out that she has  
to stay undercover even after Potter graduates. She needs to stay there to look after the  
Dursleys, in case things with the Dark Lord got worse. I'm also going to check on the  
neighbourhood, to be on the safe side. I have to go now; I have to catch the train to  
London."

Lupin set down his suitcase on the step where he was standing on. "Why don't you just  
Apparate as soon as you get out the school?" he asked curiously.

"Dumbledore thinks that it's better to travel without magic so I can make observations  
of the surroundings. Now if you'll excuse me, I have better things to do," Severus said  
impatiently and rather unpleasantly. He started to walk down the steps.

Lupin stepped aside and he picked up his suitcase. "Pardon me, Severus," he called to  
Severus's retreating back. Severus didn't look back. Lupin shook his head. He and  
Severus could never be friends. Lupin didn't expect it anyway, even though they were  
more alike than Severus would ever want to accept to himself. He walked up the steps  
and opened the oak door, his thoughts wandering to what Severus said to him about  
what happened. He would talk to Dumbledore later.

Many students took advantage of the free day and of the bright sunshine. Almost  
everyone was hanging out at the vast school grounds. Small circles of friends dotted  
the lush green grass of the sloping lawns. Some younger students—probably first  
years—were playing tag. Others were flying low on their broomsticks, just hovering  
over the grounds. Most people were wearing muggle clothes. It was a lovely, clear,  
breezy day.

Hermione leaned against a wall, feeling the wind pass her face. Ron and Harry were  
sitting in an Indian-sitting position on the grass, playing wizarding chess. Ginny looked  
over Harry's shoulders, cheering on Harry to win, which of course would not happen  
because Ron was a chess expert. The other Gryffindors were within their immediate  
vicinity, talking and minding their own businesses. Some students from other houses  
were also milling around near the unofficial territory the Gryffindors staked.

Hermione watched and listened as Dean played a muggle guitar, surrounded by his male  
friends and female groupies. Dean was a good guitarist, and he played the songs of the  
popular wizarding rock band, the Dragon's Breath. After a few minutes, her attention  
turned to her friends.

"Really, only the two of you will play chess outdoors. I can't believe I'll be saying this,  
but why don't you two play Quidditch? It's a lovely day. You can always play chess  
even during winter," Hermione said to Ron and Harry, who didn't mind what she said.  
They were lost in their own chess world.

Ginny laughed lightly and looked at Hermione. "That's the same game they were playing  
inside the common room after lunch. They don't want to break it up," she explained. She  
tucked a strand of flaming red hair behind her ear when a light gust of wind blew.

"That's still the same game? That was about more than two hours ago," Hermione said  
incredulously.

"It can go on forever," Ron said, his brows furrowed in deep thought. "You're getting  
good, Harry," he continued. "Have you been giving him chess lessons these past few  
months, Ginny?" He looked at Ginny suspiciously. Ginny laughed again.

"Of course I have. He's my boyfriend," Ginny rubbed it in. She smiled at Ron's pained  
expression.

Ron winced a little. "Don't remind me, please," he muttered. His eyes then focused  
again on the chessboard.

Harry suddenly let out a little whoop. "Aha! Checkmate, Ron!!" Harry said gleefully all of a  
sudden. Harry's green eyes lit up. Ginny and even Hermione looked eagerly at the chessboard.

"You moron! It's not yet checkmate!" Ron's king cried shrilly as it indignantly trudged to a  
safe square. This time, Ron let out a little whoop. "You missed that, Harry," Ron said excitedly,  
pointing to the square where his king was now standing.

"Oh," was all Harry said.

Ron looked up to Hermione. "Told you it could go on forever," Ron said to her. Then he  
noticed that Hermione was standing. "Maybe you want to sit down on the grass?" Ron asked.

Hermione shook her head. "I can't sit down, Ron. I'm wearing a short dress, in case you  
haven't noticed," Hermione said exasperatedly. Leave it to Ron to never notice things like  
that about her. Maybe he had stopped noticing—again—that she was a girl. Any other  
guy would have noticed her. The only consolation she had was that she knew that more  
than a few guys turned their heads to look at her.

_'Malfoy would have noticed it if he was here…drat Hermione, stop thinking about_  
_that ferret-boy! You're just asking for confusion. You've managed to put him out of_  
_your mind relatively well so far. Hmmm…come to think of it, where is he?_  
_Hermione, I said stop it!!'_ She berated herself as her eyes stubbornly defied her will,  
scanning the grounds, looking for Malfoy. There were Slytherins lounging on the grass, but  
Malfoy was nowhere in sight. She felt a pang which horribly felt like disappointment. Then,  
in the corner of her eye, she saw Pansy showing off a dragonhide coat to her gang of  
Slytherin girls. Pansy's friends were fawning all over the coat. _'That must be outrageously_  
_expensive. I wonder if Malfoy gave it to her?' _ she bitterly thought. Suddenly Hermione  
felt a vaguely painful pang which she could not explain.

Ron turned to look at Hermione again. He must have finally noticed that Hermione was  
wearing a short pastel-pink spaghetti-strapped sundress—and that she looked very good  
in it—because he turned bright red after looking over Hermione. Hermione missed that,  
because she was thinking about Malfoy in spite of herself.

"I like your dress, Hermione. Can I borrow it from you sometime? All I have are jeans  
and shorts," Ginny said, who was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and white sleeveless top.

"Sure! Anytime, Gin," Hermione said to her closest female friend. She smiled distractedly.

Harry turned to look at Ginny and said enthusiastically, "You in a dress? I'll bet you'll  
look great in that. I can almost imag—" But Harry was violently cut off by Ron's protest.

"Harry, no perverted thoughts are allowed," Ron drawled threateningly.

Whatever Harry was about to say as a response was forever left unsaid, because they  
heard an excited shriek from a small group near them.

"Oh my God! Is that Snape?! Oh my God, I didn't know he could be remotely handsome!"  
Lavender said in utter disbelief, pointing towards a figure on the stone steps in front of the school.

"Where, where?" Parvati squealed excitedly, in between giggles. She stood up from the grass  
and looked over Lavender's shoulder.

"There, look! Girls, come see!! He's wearing a ponytail!!" Lavender yelled in delight, pulling  
Susan Bones, who just happened to walk by with Sally-Anne Perks. Lavender let out a low  
unlady-like whistle.

"Hey, the other guy's Professor Lupin! He's back!" Parvati squealed again. Lupin, despite  
his werewolf reputation, had become known as the students' favourite professor. He returned  
to Hogwarts to teach Defense Against the Dark Arts when Harry's batch was in fifth year,  
and he had been teaching the same class ever since. The Defense Against the Dark Arts  
teaching slot had been seemingly cursed before, but Lupin had no problems about it—except  
occasionally getting a few sneers and jeering remarks from the Slytherins—ever since he  
returned.

It didn't take long for students to gather around Lavender and Parvati. Almost everyone was  
happy to find out that Lupin returned after his week-long seminar. And everyone was curious  
about Snape wearing a ponytail. Even Ron and Harry abandoned their overdrawn chess game  
to take a peek. Of course, no one dared to come up to Snape, so all they did was stare and  
gossip from afar.

Soon everyone was talking about Lupin's return, and Snape's outfit. However, the attention  
was focused more on Snape. Snape was always severe-looking (which suited his first name  
perfectly) and always wore plain black robes. Seeing him in muggle clothes and sporting a  
ponytail was amusing, surprising, and slightly disturbing.

"I wonder why Snape looks like that?" Seamus wondered aloud, straining his eyes to get a  
better look.

"Is the world coming to an end?" Ron said.

"It's his business," Hermione hissed. If Snape caught the students gawking at him, he could  
become really mad, and all blame would fall on Hermione, as she was Head Girl. In her head,  
she can almost hear Snape say, "Why don't you tell your fellow students that it's rude to stare?!  
One hundred points from Gryffindor, for you being an incompetent Head Girl! And detention  
until even after you graduate!"

Fortunately, Snape was too busy talking to Professor Lupin to notice anything.

Hermione also wondered what Snape would say if he knew that some of his students thought  
that he was hot. She wrinkled her nose in disgust. The Potions master didn't look half bad, but  
he was still Snape.

After a while, Lupin entered the school through the oak door and Snape walked down the stone  
steps. The students started to mind their own businesses again after the two professors parted ways.

It seemed that a lot of students—mostly male—wanted to become Aurors after graduation. A  
whole lot of them—Harry and Ron included—started talking about going up to Lupin at the very  
moment to ask about the Auror-training seminar. But they decided against it because they had  
the foresight to think that they should leave Lupin alone first because he needed to rest.

Ron and Harry resumed their chess game. Ginny returned to watching the chess match over  
Harry's shoulder, and Hermione again leaned against the wall, watching the scenes in front to  
of her idly. Harry and Ron might be completely immersed in chess to notice anything, but at  
least she had Ginny to talk to. However, a few minutes later, Liesl—Ginny's brunette,  
willowy friend and roommate—came up to them.

"Hey guys! I'll borrow Ginny first!" Liesl said with a laugh. She tapped Ginny on the shoulder.  
"Mia's got some teen muggle magazines. The mags are kinda weird coz the pictures don't move  
at all. She's gonna show them to us. Kathleen and Patty are there already. Oh Gin, you gotta  
see them! There's a gorgeous muggle, I think her name's Nicole Kidman, in the mag, and she  
looks just like you! She could pass off as your older sister!" Liesl said to Ginny while pointing  
to a small group of girls to the left. "Hey, Hermione, wanna join us, too? You gotta see the  
mags," Liesl pleasantly said to Hermione. Ginny stood up excitedly. "Hey people, I'm gonna  
join Liesl and the gang first. See you later at dinner!" Harry looked up from the chessboard to  
look at Ginny and gave her hand a small squeeze before focusing his attention back to the game.  
Ron only grunted, and Hermione nodded. However, Ginny grabbed Hermione's hand. "C'mon,  
Hermione, let's check out those magazines," Ginny said. Hermione didn't budge.

"Thanks Gin, Liesl, but I'll just stay here," Hermione said with a smile at both girls who she  
thought of as her little sisters.

Ginny stood on her spot and looked at Hermione. "You sure? Harry and Ron will bore you to  
death," she said with a roll of her eyes at the drawn-out chess game. Neither Harry nor Ron spoke  
up to defend themselves, obviously immersed in the miniature kingdom of their chessboard.

"Sure. I've been bored to death many times by these two guys before—you know, when they  
play chess and talk about Quidditch—and I've managed to resurrect every time," Hermione  
said dryly.

Ginny laughed out loud. "You can always join us if you change your mind, Herm!" Ginny called  
back as she and Liesl began to walk away.

Hermione looked after the two girls, and part of her wanted to join them, but she knew that  
she would just be unwittingly left out. Ginny was Hermione's closest female friend and confidante,  
and so Ginny's friends became her friends, too. However, Hermione knew that she didn't really  
and completely belong in their group. Ginny and her friends were from the same class and they  
were roommates. There were things that they could not help but talk about which she couldn't  
relate to. Another reason was that Hermione was labelled as part of The Trio. Most people—  
mostly the younger ones—could not help but look at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with, even at  
the very least, smallest bit of awe. A few people looked at them with hatred (and possibly,  
envy)—like the Slytherins—but most of the time, Hermione could feel that most people put her  
and her two closest friends up on a pedestal. She remembered when she first talked to Liesl and  
Mia, who were two of Ginny's closest friends. They had been very intimidated of Hermione,  
which frustrated her to no end. It took a while to convince them that she was not as uptight and  
serious as they thought she was, but her being a prefect then a Head Girl could never really make  
them totally at ease with her.

Her gaze wandered to her right, where Parvati and Lavender were talking animatedly with  
some Ravenclaw girls. Hermione was grateful that at least, that after through the years of  
being together, the students from her year treat her more or less as an equal. She could now  
say that the Gryffindor girls from her year were her friends. Of course, she was Head Girl,  
so students would always be a bit cautious around her and would always try to be in their  
best behaviour.

Hermione could not help but smile bitterly at the irony. She was definitely one of the most  
popular girls in school, but because of reasons that were entirely different from the reasons  
behind the popularity of the Patil twins and Lavender Brown. Padma, Parvati, and Lavender  
were popular for being beautiful. Parvati and Lavender were more well-known with their  
love of partying and fun. When Parvati and Lavender would get into trouble, people find it  
amusing and in-character.

On the other hand, Hermione was popular because she was the class brain, the Head Girl,  
and the best friend of two of the most sought-after guys in school (and one of whom was the  
Boy Who Lived, no less). If she got into trouble, people would make a big fuss over it. She  
was not supposed to do wrong. From an objective point of view, even Hermione could not  
help but think that it was indeed rather boring.

_'I have girl friends, but they're not what I can call my own group. It's The Trio that I'm_  
_part of, everyone thinks that. I love Harry and Ron to death, but it would have been nice_  
_if I had a set of all-female friends all this time in Hogwarts,'_ she thought wistfully. _Would_  
_I have enjoyed giggling and gossiping about the latest fashions? Would I have had fun_  
_spending nights having little slumber parties up in the dormitories? Would I have had_  
_time for dates and less time in the library? _She had always thought that she would not, but  
now she really did not know. _Maybe I would not be as clueless about boys and men. Maybe_  
_I would have been smart enough not to be a pawn to anyone's game, _she bitterly thought  
as a smirking image of Malfoy suddenly formed in her head. Then a naked Malfoy materialized  
in her mind. She felt her cheeks grow hot and she shook her head to get rid of the unwelcome  
image. She concentrated her attention on Harry and Ron.

The chess game was more potent than the Dementor's Kiss, it seemed to Hermione. Harry  
and Ron looked like two statues, for they were each deep in concentration and oblivious of the  
surroundings. Hermione decided that she should join the other girls now, and spare herself of  
regrets. Regrets only hurt.

Hermione walked down the grassy slopes and approached the Parvati's circle. Hermione  
spotted an empty foldable stool at Lavender's right. She could here snippets of the animated  
conversation—"rather sexy", "has potential", "slimy grease-head" "enigmatic", "take a bath",  
"horrible git".

"Hey, can I sit here?" Hermione asked brightly to no one in particular to the noisy group.

Lavender looked up. She was sitting in and Indian position on the grass, wearing tight and  
flared blue jeans and a blue halter top, her blond hair in loose waves around her shoulders.  
As usual, she looked gorgeous. Her blue eyes brightened upon seeing Hermione. "Herm!  
Sure you can sit there. Lisa was sitting on it because she didn't want to have grass stains on  
her white pants. But now she said that her head aches and she wanted to take a nap first,"  
she said in a bubbly manner.

"What were you just talking about?" Hermione asked as she flicked a speck of dust from  
the hem of her dress.

"We were just talking about Snape. As I said, he's rather sexy and he is enigmatic," Lavender  
said emphatically with a glare at Parvati, as if daring her to oppose the declaration.

"Well, he has lots of potential, as I said earlier. I just wish he'd take a bath more often. His  
hair makes him look like a slimy grease-head. Admit it, Lavvie," Parvati answered. All the girls  
giggled, even Lavender and Hermione.

"A ponytail suits him best. He may be a horrible git, as you said earlier, Parvati, but those  
clothes he's wearing show off his toned body," Mandy Brocklehurst said as she flipped her  
staright raven hair over her shoulder. Mandy was a pretty Ravenclaw, and usually quiet and  
rather bookish. It was kind of surprising to hear her talk like that.

All pairs of eyes stared at Mandy. Mandy began to blush. "We—ell, he's not that far from  
us for me not to notice that—that…aw, c'mon, gimme a break," Mandy stammered, her face  
looking like the setting sun. There was another round of laughter from the girls.

"I still think that Snape's a horrible git. He's merciless! And he always favour Slytherins,"  
Hermione piped up. She heard Mandy sigh in relief now that the attention was not focused  
on her.

Parvati nodded at what Hermione said. "Yeah, he's so unfair, especially to Neville. Neville  
improved a whole lot since fourth year!" she exclaimed.

Then the girls started to hoot loudly. The usually reserved Padma began to dance around  
Parvati. "Hey sis, you really fell hard for good ole Neville!" It was Parvati's turn to become  
bright crimson.

Up until now, Hermione could not understand how Neville and Parvati got together. Oh  
sure, puberty had been kind to Neville. He lost a lot of weight, and he got taller and leaner.  
He could never be among the list of most sought-after boys in school, but he was definitely  
cute in a boyish, innocent, and charming sort of way. Many of the girls found him sweet,  
and Hermione knew that more than a few girls, mostly younger, had a schoolgirl crush on  
him. Neville also developed substantial self-confidence. He was neither particularly suave  
nor graceful, but he was not clumsy and fumbling anymore. Neville had always been likeable  
(despite of his knack to destroy all things before), but ever since he had broken out of his  
nervous shell, he was actually looked at as a cool guy. As for schoolwork, his grades were  
average, and he excelled in Herbology, second to Hermione. Of course, he would always  
be rather horrible in Potions—not because he was a dunce on it, but because Snape scared  
him senseless. However, Hermione noticed that Neville did improve a whole lot since he  
got to Hogwarts. She didn't find herself whispering Potions ingredients to Neville for quite  
a time now.

Hermione thought that the Parvati-Neville item was a very good thing. She had never seen  
Neville and Parvati as happy as they were in the present. She thought that Parvati, having a  
reputation of being a flirt, would break Neville's heart. But the couple was going strong—  
they had been together for half a year now. Still, how Parvati—a stunning exotic beauty,  
with her abundant black hair shimmering over her shoulders—who could have any guy she  
wanted, chose to be with Neville. Hermione made a mental note to ask Parvati how she  
and Neville got together.

Hermione was lost in her thoughts and was only jolted back to reality when Padma spoke  
again. "Seriously, though. Snape is unfair, nasty, and has an attitude problem…but I have to  
agree with Lavender. There's something enigmatic about Snape. We may not like to admit  
it, but he's like a magnet. He can make us listen to him with hardly any effort. And he can  
elicit fear and dislike—and even hatred—from us. Even though what he draws out from us  
are negative feelings, just the thought that he can draw out something from us means a lot.  
Not everyone can have a strong effect on people," Padma said thoughtfully.

Hermione knew that Padma was an intellectual, and she fitted perfectly in Ravenclaw. If  
Padma was as diligent as Hermione was, Hermione knew that Padma could have had become  
holder of the titles Top One student and Head Girl. However, it was known all over school  
that Padma's intelligence was more of insight, creativity, and wisdom, and not so much of  
logic and books. Padma and Hermione did not get to talk often, but Hermione always put a  
high value on Padma's opinion on things.

And from the look of things, Hermione was not the only one who was interested on what  
Padma had to say. Every girl in the circle was looking at her expectantly.

"I'm gonna tell you something that you may not like to hear, but I'll tell you anyway to make  
my point clearer. I'm not going to be a hypocrite about it. We all dislike Snape and the rest  
of the Slytherins, but I think we all have been intrigued with them at least one point in our lives.  
There's just something about the dark that'll always draw even at least the smallest part of  
ourselves to them, and we get guilty pleasure out of that. It's because they symbolize what  
we couldn't be, and there's always attraction towards the forbidden. Maybe it's mystique.  
Or charisma," Padma said rather dreamily. Then she looked around at the girls, and from the  
expression on Padma's face, she was bracing herself for any protests.

But none came.

Maybe it was because Padma did not do anything but simply put into concrete words what  
everybody felt deep down.

Hermione felt Padma's words hit home. Hermione might be an all-around good girl, but she  
was not a two-dimensional static person. She was guilty of being occasionally curious of the  
enigma Snape had—how he could command attention with just his mere presence, and  
without force. She also sometimes wondered how Malfoy could get the best of her and  
bring the worst out of her. She remembered slapping Malfoy back in third year. She was  
not the type to slap people—she was against violence, after all—but she had been suddenly  
seized with the urge to do so back then. She also remembered how she walked out of  
Divination class for good. It was in the same day she had slapped Malfoy. She never told  
anyone else, not even Harry and Ron, but slapping Malfoy brought a mood of recklessness  
out of her, which extended to her infamous walkout from Divination class. Then her mind  
fast-forwarded to the present. She remembered ogling at Malfoy's body. She remembered  
sneaking out at ungodly hours to confront him with their potion, at the risk of being caught  
by Filch. And she remembered how she grabbed Malfoy's robe collars and kissed him. She  
enjoyed that kiss so much that her body craved for more, despite the protests of her mind.

Hermione had guilty pleasures, all right.

Draco just left the Slytherin dormitory, where Crabbe and Goyle were sprawled on  
their own beds, sleeping like babies. Draco snorted at that. He had never seen anyone  
that looked less like a baby than Crabbe and Goyle. Still, they slept like a couple of  
infants. They had been sleeping since after lunch, and most probably they would wake  
before dinner. Then they would eat dinner, and then they would sleep again for the night,  
and would wake again tomorrow for breakfast. _'What an exciting life they lead!'_  
Draco thought sarcastically with an air of superiority; once again he was glad for being  
himself and not being like Crabbe or Goyle.

Draco reached the oak front door and stepped outside. He looked up at the sky. The  
sun was starting to set, and the blue sky was turning into a pinkish and purplish colour.  
_'Perfect,'_ he thought. This was the best weather for one of the things he truly enjoyed—  
horseback riding. Of course, he preferred to ride magical horses, particularly the pegasus,  
which was a magical horse with wings. Even though Draco had the money to buy one, he  
could not, because the pegasus was an endangered species, and its sale is prohibited. It  
was all the more reason for Draco to love the riding a pegasus either galloping across wide  
stretches of grasslands or soaring through the sky. Whenever Draco rode on a pegasus,  
he relished the feel of air breezing through him, not to mention the power and speed that  
came along with riding such a beautiful and powerful yet wild and rare creature. Draco  
liked riding a broomstick, but he loved riding horses.

Unfortunately for Draco and his love for riding, students were not allowed to bring a pet that  
wasn't a cat, a toad, or an owl. That meant he was not able to bring to Hogwarts his favourite  
black stallion out of the Malfoys' stables of horses, Thor; and for that matter, he also wasn't  
able to bring his full-grown pet python, Saber. At least he was allowed to take his eagle owl  
Maximilian—or Max—with him. Draco often wondered how Weasley the Perpetual Shadow  
to Scarhead had gotten away with bringing his annoying at to Hogwarts. Maybe because it was  
so small that he had been able to sneak it in. Fortunately the horrendous rat was eaten by  
Granger's ugly cat a few years ago, which served the orange-headed Weasel right.

Granger. She crossed his mind again. He had managed so far during the day to keep her  
off his mind until now. Damn, she was a distraction. Lately he found himself lusting after  
her, which was a bad thing. Death Eaters were not supposed to have weaknesses, especially  
weaknesses of the body. The hunger of the body for sex was the most primitive kind of  
hunger. Draco, being a Death Eater, should have mastered the art of iron control by now,  
and should not succumb to any urges, especially primitive urges.

He sighed. Who was he kidding? Well, maybe the other Death Eaters and maybe even the  
Dark Lord. But Draco knew that he could not kid himself. There was still a part of him that  
was essentially weak. When he was younger, a lot of things easily scared him. He remembered  
when he was in first year. He got detention with Longbottom, Granger, and Potter, and as  
punishment, they had to go in the Forbidden Forest late at night with the dumb giant Hagrid.  
Draco had been scared out of his wits, and much to his dismay, he was not able to hide his  
fear from Potter. Draco ran away from the forest like a chicken with its head chopped off. He  
was also scared of Blast-Ended Skrewts. He tried his very best not to make it obvious, of  
course. The Gryffindors would laugh at him. Too bad they shared the same Care of Magical  
Creatures class.

And the dementor. He was scared of dementors the first time he met one and would still be  
scared of them until his dying day. When he first encountered a dementor back in third year,  
he had been overcome with coldness and a ringing voice in his head—the voice of his father  
reprimanding him, scolding him, prodding him to do better with everything he did. In the  
dementors' presence, his mind had kept on replaying on a scene he chose to forget. It was  
when he had raised his voice to his own father, telling him that he was sick and tired of being  
pushed beyond his limits…

"Draco, these grades weren't what I expected. These are worse than your first year grades," Lucius  
said while looking over the piece of parchment sent to him by an owl from Hogwarts. He walked  
across the marble floor of his study room to Draco, who was standing by the oak door. Then he  
looked up at Draco with a stern expression on his face. "We just lost one of our house-elves, Draco,  
and I'm no longer a school governor. I expected your grades to be the Malfoy's saving grace, but I  
should have known better than trust you to have excellent grades. What can you say for yourself?"  
Lucius said coldly.

"I told you, father. The school teachers all have favourites, and Granger is the all-time teacher's pet.  
It's sickening!" Draco reasoned.

"Then I tell you again that you should be ashamed that a girl with no wizarding blood can beat you in  
every exam!" his father bellowed at him. Then Lucius said in a low voice, "You don't have respect for  
family honour. You might just amount to no more than a thief or a plunderer."

Something inside Draco felt like bursting in protest. It was not his fault that Granger was some kind  
of a freak. He worked hard, he really did, but he was sick and tired of his efforts being belittled.

"I'm not going to be a thief or plunderer, father! And it's not my fault that we don't own Dobby  
anymore! It's not my fault that you were sacked as school governor! If you really cared about family  
honour then you should have been more careful! You shouldn't put all the blame on me!" Draco  
raised his voice to his father. He forgot that he was just a scrawny little kid compared to the tall,  
well-built Lucius. Draco was just twelve, going on thirteen at the time. But Draco never really had a  
chance to be a normal boy. Being a Malfoy forced him to grow up beyond his years.

Lucius looked at him, with sheer anger in his eyes. Lucius grabbed him by the shoulders and shook  
him hard until he almost felt his teeth chatter. "What did you say, boy? How dare you answer me like  
that, you ungrateful child!"

In later years, Draco would always wonder what possessed him to say the following words,  
"Ungrateful? What or who do I have to be thankful for? You? I have nothing to be grateful for!"

Lucius let go of Draco's shoulders and struck Draco across the face. Draco staggered, but before  
he fell to the cold black marble floor, Lucius grabbed him by the shoulders and pressed him against  
the wall. "How old are you, Draco, to know that I am nothing for you to be grateful for? Look at  
me, boy when I'm talking to you!" And Lucius roughly grabbed Draco's chin to force him to look  
into his eyes.

Draco saw anger and resentment in his father's eyes…but he also saw something that remarkably  
looked like hurt. Draco felt a twinge of guilt, but he would never let his father know that. Draco was  
too much like his own father—proud, detached, and cold.

"You still have a lot to learn, Draco. You still have to understand a lot of things," his father said  
coldly. Then Lucius let him go. "Leave the room now and go straight to your bedroom. You'll be  
grounded for one whole month, and if you dare protest you'll be really sorry," Lucius continued  
in his icy voice, and he pushed Draco out of the room and closed the study room's oak door shut.

That was years ago, the summer after second year. And now his father was dead. Draco  
felt that his father was not able to let him know everything that he was supposed to know.  
Draco felt deep down that he still had a lot to learn, and he still had to understand a lot of  
things, and now he would never know them, because his father was gone. Draco missed  
Lucius. They never had a typical father-son relationship, and Lucius had been away to  
business most of the time; but Draco knew that in the times that he and his father were  
together, they had shared something as father-and-son and as man-and-man, in a sort of  
twisted, bizarre and peculiar Malfoy way.

_'I'm getting soft in the brain. I've been standing here on the steps for too long,'_ Draco  
thought to himself as he went down the stone steps at the front of the school. He looked down  
at the grassy lawns. A lot of students were milling around, and he caught sight of Pansy. He  
decided to take a roundabout and longer way to Hagrid's hut to avoid passing the Slytherin  
girls. He finally reached the hut near the outskirts of the school grounds and the edge of the  
Forbidden Forest.

He knocked on Hagrid's door impatiently. Moments later, the door to the savage's hut  
opened, and Hagrid the hairy giant's face appeared in between the open gap of the doorway.  
Hagrid looked like he just woke up from an afternoon nap, but his face immediately took on  
an expression of surprise, caution, and slight disgust upon seeing Draco.

"What d'yeh want?" Hagrid said looking suspiciously at Draco. Hagrid did not open the  
door wide; instead, he left it just slightly open.

"I'm borrowing Serilda," Draco said. "You said that we students should come down here  
during our free time to study the animals for extra credit. That's why I'm here. I'm going to  
study about the pegasus through hands-on and practical approach," Draco continued to  
explain condescendingly, folding his arms over his chest. Hagrid would have no reason not  
to allow him.

There was always no love lost between Draco and Hagrid, and now Hagrid looked pained,  
probably because he knew that he could not deny Draco the privilege to borrow the pegasus.  
Hagrid went out of his hut, closed the door, gestured for Draco to follow him and went to the  
back of the hut where an improvised stable was standing.

"Yeh take care of Serilda. She's jus' on loan to the school. Don' 'urt her," Hagrid said  
as he opened the stable door and let the magnificent pegasus out. "Yeh'll return her before  
dark. And don' fly outside school. Yeh'll do wha' yer told," Hagrid, his eyes still narrowed  
suspiciously at Draco, continued explaining to him. Hagrid held the reins in his hand, and it  
seemed that he had no intention of letting them go and giving them to Malfoy.

"Yeah whatever," Draco said dismissively, taking the reins off from Hagrid's hands. A  
saddle was already on Serilda's back, and Draco easily and gracefully mounted the pegasus.  
He held the reins in his hand and brought the pegasus to a canter.

Draco started on the path circling the Hogwarts grounds, and Hagrid called after him, "Be  
careful of what yer doin' with Serilda! She gets 'urt easily!" Draco took no notice of Hagrid.  
Draco was being gentle with the pegasus. Hagrid was just being a big baby with all the  
creatures he taught about in class.

When he was along the newly created bridle path near the Quidditch fields, he marvelled  
at the pegasus. Its shiny coat was black—the way Draco liked it—and its dark wings  
spanned long and wide. It was a beautiful and imposing creature. And Draco was proud  
that not everyone could ride the pegasus well. Only a few had the skill and grace, and  
Draco was one of that few. He remembered during a Care of Magical Creatures class  
when Potter tried to ride the pegasus down the bridle path. To Draco's delight, Potter  
had fallen on his face and had broken his glasses after Serilda went galloping wildly across  
the grass lawns.

An idea struck Draco. He was a good rider, why hide it? During Care of Magical  
Creatures Class, Draco was able to showcase his riding abilities, but not as much as he  
wanted to because everyone was just given a short allotted time to ride Serilda.

Draco pulled on the reins and brought Serilda to a fast gallop. He steered the majestic  
pegasus to the right, and directed her towards the grass lawns where the students were  
hanging out. As he got nearer, he saw Pansy's figure in a dragonhide coat rushing towards  
him. He had a sudden urge to run Pansy over, but he fought against that. It would be too  
much hassle in his part to get in trouble with Dumbledore.

"Draco! Draco! Let me ride with you!" Pansy said shrilly as Draco slowed down Serilda's  
galloping and made her canter to a stop. Soon, Draco was surrounded by adoring Slytherin  
females and awed Slytherin males.

"Not now, Pansy. Some other time," Draco said, trying hard not to let the irritation show  
in his voice. The last thing Draco needed was one of Pansy's what-did-I-do-wrong-and-  
why-are-you-mad-at-me whiny speeches.

Draco tore his gaze away from the Slytherins and looked around. It turned out that the  
Slytherins were not the only ones looking at Draco and Serilda. Almost everyone was  
looking at them. Some people were curious, some looked awed, some looked envious,  
while some looked on with disgust. Some people were probably disgusted because they  
thought that he was a show-off. _'Well, if you've got it, flaunt it,' _Draco mused to himself.

Then his gaze fell on a group of girls farther down the lawns. He picked out Granger  
right away, who was looking at his direction. Draco picked up the reins. "Move over!"  
Draco shouted to everyone in the way before he made Serilda fly low across the lawn  
towards Granger.

He landed when he reached Granger and her companions. Up close, he was given a  
good view of Granger, who happened to look too beautiful for her own good in a short  
pink dress. She was sitting on a stool, and the hem of the dress rode up her thighs a  
little, exposing long, slim, and toned legs and thighs. Mudblood or not, she was beautiful,  
and he took time to admire the view. To Draco's amusement, Granger was now looking  
at anywhere and anyone but him. She was also turning into a lovely shade of a full, ripe  
tomato.

"Hey, Granger, want me to take you for a ride?" he drawled lazily. He smiled a very  
suggestive smile at Granger, which made her look more uncomfortable. Draco noticed  
that the girls Granger were with were looking on, barely hiding their fascination.

Granger stood up from her stool and looked up at Draco defiantly. She was still red  
in the face, but she now looked determined. "Sod off, Malfoy. I'd take points from  
Slytherin for your careless handling of Serilda. Oh, right, five points from Slytherin for not  
taking the bridle path! These lawns are not for horseback riding!" Granger said hotly.

Draco had to laugh. Little Miss-Goody-Two-Shoes was making a big deal out of his  
'offense' when she herself had lots of skeletons hiding in her closet. Draco should know,  
because those secrets involved late-night encounters with him.

"What are you laughing at?" Granger asked angrily, her face turning redder than Draco  
thought was possible. Before he could respond, though, Weasel and Potty ran up to  
Granger. _'Oh great, here are the knights in rusting armour coming to the rescue_  
_of a damsel in distress,'_ Draco bitterly thought.

"You slimy git! Stay away from Hermione if you still want your balls attached to your  
body and not scattered somewhere here on the grass after I severe them from your albino  
self!" Weasley said darkly to Draco. The Weasel pointed his wand at Draco's crotch.  
The girls, including Granger, gasped with Weasley's graphic threat. Even Potter looked  
mildly shocked. Draco would have found the threat amusing if Weasel's wand was not  
pointed at his manhood.

"Your fat mother couldn't teach you how to talk decently, eh? It figures. Being moneyless  
wretches makes you used to dirt of all kinds," Draco retorted just as darkly.

Weasley looked like he was about to burst into a thousand pieces. He was shaking  
violently with rage. Potter lightly pushed aside Weasel towards Granger. Granger  
walked away a little from the group, bringing Weasley with her. Then Draco saw  
Potter standing beside Serilda. In a way that only Draco could hear, Potter said to  
him, "Go away, Malfoy. I just saved your balls from Ron. But if you don't go away  
now, I'll see to it that I myself will cut off your balls AND your penis as well with  
the very painful Shredding Spell."

Draco scowled at Potter, but moments later, Draco left with Serilda flying across the  
lawns. He decided that he did not want to risk his manhood.

Hermione could not help but admire the way Draco flew Serilda, his robes flowing with  
the wind. She marvelled at the powerful force he flew Serilda with as he finally left them  
after Ron gave him a scandalous threat.

Hermione felt someone tapping her shoulder. She turned to look, and saw Ron just  
standing beside her. "Hermione, are you okay? What did that rabid ferret tell you?"  
Ron asked Hermione, his brow furrowed in concern.

Hermione felt her lips twitch in a smile. "Nothing, really. He's just being his annoying  
usual self. But I can take care of myself, Ron. I even took points off from Slytherin,"  
she said. "It's you who got me worried! I know you, Ron. I know you would do it.  
In the mood you were in, you'd castrate Malfoy as soon as you got the chance,"  
Hermione continued, trying to keep her face serious even though she wanted to double  
up in laughter on the grass. Ron's threat was funny in a sick, toilet-humour way.

"Well, he deserves it!" Ron said with a passion. He tucked his wand inside the deep  
pocket of his cargo pants.

"But you'll get yourself expelled when you do that, Ron," Hermione said. She caught  
Ron's eye and then she could not help but burst out in laughter. "But I have to say that  
what you said was bloody funny! Thank goodness only seventh years heard you, Ron.  
What you said wasn't really for general patronage," Hermione said to Ron after her  
bout of laughter.

Ron just shrugged, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes.

Then Harry and the girls walked to where Hermione and Ron were standing. Lavender  
approached Ron and swatted him playfully on the shoulder. "Ron! You bad boy!" she  
said playfully. Hermione rolled her eyes exasperatedly. Almost seven years as Lavender's  
housemate made Hermione realize that Lavender was an incurable and congenital yet  
harmless flirt. In fact, even though Lavender was rather too vain and girly for Hermione's  
taste, she was a pretty nice and friendly girl in general. Still, Hermione could not help but  
feel slightly jealous.

She looked at Ron, and soon he was crowded by the girls. Ironically, Hermione found  
herself at the fringes of the small group of Ron and the girls. _'Gorgeous girls, among_  
_the finest in Hogwarts,' _Hermione thought savagely, white-hot jealousy surging through  
her body. Ron was not called one of the most-sought after boys in Hogwarts for nothing.  
And Ron, being the typical male, revelled in the attention. Of course, Hermione was  
being unfair. There was such a thing as harmless flirting, and it was perfectly natural  
especially for teenagers. But Hermione rather resented that because she was not a flirt  
(never mind if that was unnatural on her part).

Harry walked up to Hermione. "Ron's having a field day, right?" Harry said amusedly,  
gesturing with a hand towards Ron and the girls. Then he looked closely at Hermione.  
"You okay, Hermione?"

"Yeah. Malfoy was just going on with his usual verbal abuse, that's all," Hermione said  
dryly.

"I'm not talking about Malfoy, Hermione," Harry said evenly, as he looked at Hermione  
first, then at Ron. _'God, why does Harry has to be so damn quick and observant?'_

"Then what are you talking about?" Hermione dared to ask. _'Oh God Hermione, why are_  
_you doing this to yourself? You've got problems with Malfoy, don't add up Ron to it.'_

"Do you really want me to say it?" Harry asked. Looking cautiously at Hermione, wanting  
to know if she really had no idea what he was talking about.

"Oh go on. I might be assuming something which is totally different from what you're  
actually thinking," Hermione explained. _Hermione, you utter prat, you know he's talking_  
_about Ron. You just never openly talked about it but you know that Harry knows._  
_Hell, a lot of people probably know. Oh my God! Maybe even Ron knows._

"I'm talking about you and Ron. Are you okay?" Harry said. He nervously traced the  
edges of the folded-up chessboard he carried in his left hand, probably waiting from an  
angry outburst of denial from Hermione.

Hermione fought the urge to ask what Harry thought the deal was between Ron and her.  
All along she knew what Harry meant. He was asking her if she was okay because Harry  
thought that she was jealous of the girls hanging around Ron. But she realized that she did  
not want to hear it blatantly. It would be too painful for her, to see Harry's pity. Hermione  
knew that Harry had figured out that she liked Ron, but that did not mean that Hermione  
was ready for a complete confession. Only Ginny knew the truth straight from Hermione,  
and Hermione would like to keep it that way, especially if things looked like they were going  
nowhere.

"Hermione?" Harry pressed on, as he ran his right hand through his jet-black hair.

"You've finally managed to finish the chess game with Ron?" she asked, nodding towards  
the chessboard in his hand. She wanted to talk about something else, anything else. Just not  
about what she felt for Ron. No, not that.

"Hermione, don't change the subject. I'm talking about you and Ron. At the risk of sounding  
pushy, I'm still asking you if you're okay. Are you?" Harry said patiently.

Hermione forced out a laugh. "I really don't know what you're talking about. Harry, you're  
so weird sometimes!" Hermione said dismissively.

Harry looked unconvinced.

Hermione knew that she had to get away. She started to walk back to the school entrance.  
"I'm going to the library; I just realized that I have to finish something. Bye, see you at dinner!"  
she said loudly hurriedly in one breath to Harry, Ron, and the girls. She practically ran up the  
lawns and the stone steps that led to the school entrance.

Harry tried to run after Hermione, but he felt that she did not want him to catch her anyway.  
He looked after her retreating form, feeling very stupid. He should not have meddled, but he  
could not bear seeing Hermione looking so sad and forlorn at Ron. Harry wondered if  
Hermione was even aware of it.

It did not help, too, that Harry often saw Ron looking at Hermione in the same forlorn and  
sad way. Hermione did not see it, because Ron would only look at her that way when she  
was not looking or when she was at a safe distance from him.

It saddens Harry that his two best friends were both lonely, when they could be happy  
together. Harry wished that both Ron and Hermione could feel the happiness he shared  
with Ginny. If only his two best friends were not so stubborn (in Hermione's case) or  
too dense (in Ron's case). They like each other; it was painfully and blatantly obvious.

He looked at Ron, and he saw that he was saying goodbye to the girls he was flirting  
with. Then Ron walked up to him, a big grin on his now-just-slightly-freckled face. "Hey  
Harry! Wait up! Where are you going?" Ron asked cheerfully. Then he started to look  
around, as if searching for something or someone. "Where's Hermione?"

"Didn't you hear when she left? She went to the library," Harry explained.

"She's at the library again, on a free day?" Ron asked, shaking his head in disbelief,  
causing short red locks of hair to fall over his eyes.

"Yeah, she said she'll be there," Harry answered. Would he dare ask Ron? He put  
Hermione in the hot seat. Nothing came out of it. It was just fair to put Ron in the hot  
seat now, wasn't it? Maybe something would come out of it.

Harry took a deep breath. Ron was irascible. Harry had to choose his words carefully  
because he might wrongly strike a sensitive nerve and get Ron mad. And Ron was not  
someone to come across with when he was mad.

"Ron, I know you like Hermione. You told me so, remember?" Harry asked, feeling  
nervous again. He adjusted his glasses on the bridge of his nose.

Ron seemed to stiffen on his spot. "What are you getting at, Harry?" Ron asked flatly.

"I just thought—I just thought that maybe you could give it a shot, Ron. We'll be  
graduating soon, and we'll be far away when Auror training starts," Harry said, hoping  
that Ron would see his point.

Ron laughed hollowly and bitterly. "Why did you suddenly bring this up right now?" Ron  
asked in his same flat tone.

_'Because I saw how jealous and lonely Hermione looked when you were flirting_  
_with those girls, Ron! She likes you! It's in your face and you don't see it! Haven't_  
_you noticed how miserable she seems lately?'_ Harry thought. He desperately wanted  
to say it to Ron, because it was the complete truth, but Harry did not want to embarrass  
Hermione, even though she was not aware of this conversation he was now having with  
Ron.

Harry decided to settle on a more generic truth. "Nothing. I just wish you'd tell her and  
take the chance, Ron. Who knows, maybe she likes you back. In my opinion, I think she  
likes you, too" Harry bravely said.

Ron faced him, and his eyes were blazing with too many emotions that Harry could no  
longer distinguish one from the other.

"Harry, I know better about what I can have and what I can't. Years of poverty taught  
me that," Ron said in a strained voice.

"And you think you can't have Hermione?" Harry asked. In Harry's opinion, Ron had  
the most chance to be Hermione's boyfriend out of all the males in the world. Why couldn't  
Ron see that?

"Yeah, isn't it obvious?" Ron said bitterly. He shoved his hands in his pockets.

"No it isn't. What makes you think that? You haven't even tried," Harry reasoned. He  
looked into his friend's eyes searchingly.

"Why should I?" Ron asked, now a sad note in his voice.

"Why should you? Why should you? I tell you why, Ron. You're my friend and I hate  
to see you lonely. Hermione's also my friend and in case you haven't noticed, she's  
lonely, too. I just want you two to be happy together. Ron, tell her. Be worthy of being  
in Gryffindor. Be brave enough for your sake, so you two could be happy," Harry said.  
He knew that Ron could really get mad at him for saying that, but Harry was willing to  
risk Ron's anger if it would be for the betterment of everything in the long run.

But to Harry's surprise, Ron did not get angry. Instead, his shoulders slumped, and a  
tired pained look settled on his face.

"It's not that easy, Harry. For one thing, I'm not even sure that she likes me. Probably  
she's in love with someone else right now. But that's not the reason why I haven't told  
her. The truth is, I don't want her to like me the way I like her," Ron said softly.

Now Harry was really confused. He looked at Ron with a puzzled expression on his face.  
"Care to enlighten me?" Harry asked after a pregnant pause.

"Hermione deserves better, Harry. I don't want being with her when I don't have anything  
to offer her. No, it's not out of pride or ego. I just think she deserves the best of everything,  
and I can't give that to her. It's not fair to her," Ron said sadly.

"Is it about money, Ron? Damn, Ron, who cares about—" Harry said, but was cut off  
by Ron.

"No it's not all about money, although that's part of it. But it's something else altogether."  
Ron paused for a moment, then continued, "I even haven't found my place under the sun  
yet. I haven't got anything to give. I don't want to be selfish and go after Hermione now.  
I want to work hard and deserve her. If the time will come when I am deserving enough  
of her, and she's still available, I'll tell her. If she already has found someone to make her  
happy, then I'll just leave her alone and I'll not bother her. You understand that, Harry?"

Harry had never seen Ron look so sad and desolate. An overwhelming sadness flooded  
over Harry. He just could not stand there seeing one of his best friends like that without  
sharing a part of their pain.

"I can't say that I totally understand you. I still want you happy together, but it's your  
decision. But I just have to ask you this. Do you realize that maybe you're hurting her?"  
Harry said.

"Do you realize that maybe I'm not? Harry, please, let's drop this," Ron answered simply.  
His shoulders slumped lower, and he looked like a lost little child. The only other time Harry  
saw Ron look like that was during the months after Mr. Weasley's death.

Harry decided not to push it. He respected Ron's pain. Harry might not totally get Ron's  
logic, but then again, Harry did not live Ron's life. He knew that for Ron, it made perfect  
sense. Harry knew that it took all Ron's courage to say everything that he just said to Harry.

Then Harry smiled at Ron. "You know what, I may never be able to figure you out completely,  
but you couldn't be more Gryffindor material if you were made-to-order," Harry said to Ron.

Ron smiled weakly, and Harry grinned back widely. Soon, both boys were laughing, but  
Harry noticed that Ron's eyes still held the same heavy sadness.

Hermione sat at one of the tables in the farthest and most secluded corner of the library. A  
roll of parchment was on the table, neglected for the moment.

When she had gotten back inside the school, she went up to her room and gathered her  
school things into her book bag. Then she went directly to the library, which was empty  
of people except for her and Madam Pince.

She had been sitting for about a couple of hours since then.

She sat, thinking. Most people thought that she went to the library to study, and that was  
mostly true. But Hermione also went to the library to reflect and think. It was her haven.  
Here in the library she found solace. The Gryffindor common room was too noisy to be her  
thinking place. Her dormitory room, was not conducive for thinking either…it was conducive  
for sleeping. That made the library the perfect personal spot for her to think, not just about  
schoolwork, but also about life as well.

And now, more than ever, she had a lot to think and reflect about. First, Harry. Harry knew  
that she liked Ron. She might have said nothing but as cliché as it might sound, her actions  
spoke louder than words. Harry was such a sweet friend, and Hermione knew that his  
intentions were aimed at making her feel better, but instead she felt worse. It was obvious  
that Ron did not like her the way she liked him. There were times when she thought he cared  
back, especially in fourth year. He seemed bloody jealous when she when to the Yule Ball  
with Viktor. And after that, she saw bouts of sweetness from Ron, directed to her. But most  
of the time, Ron acted only like a very close friend, and nothing more. It did not help that Ron  
was a hit among the girls.

It was ironic, really. Back in fourth year she had a crush on Harry. Who would not like  
Harry? He was brave, kind, sweet, thoughtful, and cute. Her crush on Harry had been huge.  
Even Viktor must have noticed it, because he had complained that all she talked about was  
Harry, Harry, Harry. Hermione had secretly enjoyed the Daily Prophet false scoop, despite  
of the loads of Howlers and hate mails she received.

Hermione had known that Harry saw her as a sister and friend. He liked Cho then, and  
Harry would not give any other girl the time of day. And Ginny was pining over Harry at  
the time. Hermione was Ginny's confidante so Hermione felt guilty about having her  
female best friend confide in her about Harry when she herself had feelings for the same  
guy.

But Ron had entered the picture, and everything had gone haywire since then. She had  
found herself acting very grouchy whenever Ron mooned over Fleur Delacour. Ron asked  
Fleur to the dance when Ron did not even think of asking his own female best friend! And  
the damn that kiss Fleur gave Ron! Okay, so it was just a kiss on the cheek. But it was still  
a kiss. Out of jealousy and defiance, she had kissed Harry on the cheek when they were at  
King's Cross station at the end of their tragic fourth year. She made sure that Ron saw it.  
Of course, a part of that kiss was a sort of closure for her and comfort for Harry. Harry had  
needed all the support he could get, and Hermione knew that such a simple gesture was  
worth a thousand comforting words. As for closure, the kiss was sort of a goodbye to Harry  
the crush, and hello again to Harry the friend.

Now, Harry and Ginny were happy together. Ron and Hermione were going nowhere.  
For all she knew, maybe it was just a one-sided matter, and Ron was none the wiser about  
how she felt._ 'Did you love me only in my head, Ron?'_ Hermione thought. _'Damn it,_  
_Ron, I'm moving on. I swear I'm moving on. I can't wait for you forever.'_

She hated feeling depressed, so she pushed Ron away from her thoughts, only to be  
replaced by Malfoy. Hermione had a very strange feeling that maybe Malfoy could be the  
one to help her move on. _'No, Hermione, no!' _she thought angrily. But she admitted to  
herself that Padma was right. _'There's just something about the dark that'll always_  
_draw even at least the smallest part of ourselves to them, and we get guilty pleasure_  
_out of that.'_ That was what Padma had said. Hermione felt that she was dangerously  
drawn in a twisted way to Malfoy.

Hermione heard footsteps coming towards her table and she looked around. It could  
not be Madam Pince. Madam Pince knew that this was Hermione's unofficial spot, and  
the librarian was thoughtful enough not to go there whenever Hermione was sitting there.  
Hermione figured that Madam Pince liked her because Hermione had such high reverence  
for the library. It was no secret, anyway, that the library was her territory. Hermione  
knew that everyone knew just how she revered the library.

"Hello Hermione. We meet again…alone," an unmistakable voice said. Hermione looked  
up and saw Malfoy standing in front of her table. Malfoy then pulled up the seat across from  
Hermione and sat down without invitation.

"I asked you to ride with me on Serilda earlier, Hermione. I don't know why you turned  
me down. You don't know what you just missed," he said smoothly.

She sat in shock and felt her face go red again, as it did earlier when Malfoy asked her to  
ride Serilda. Hermione remembered her last meeting with him…that was when she kissed  
him. Her face grew hotter. It was just last night! Last night! It seemed like an eternity ago.

"I'm surprised that Hagrid lent you Serilda. Or maybe you 'borrowed' her without permission?"  
Hermione said acidly.

"Serilda was in my good hands. I happen to be the best horseback rider in this school,  
Hermione. If I can't handle her well, no one could. Even Hagrid knows that," he replied icily.  
His gray eyes narrowed dangerously.

"How modest," Hermione muttered sarcastically under her breath. Malfoy must not have  
heard it because he ignored her statement.

Malfoy reached out to the roll of parchment on her table. He scanned it idly with his gray  
eyes. "I see that you've written the essay for Potions, Hermione. And I see that you—the  
class brain, of all people—lied. You must've taken my advice. I, for one, know that your  
dream wasn't in the least bit funny. It was chocolate that was in the potion, not a cotton ball,  
remember? Unless of course, you think that me turning into a ferret is highly sexual and  
arousing," Malfoy said coldly.

It felt very disconcerting to hear Malfoy say her first name. She almost wished that he would  
start calling her Granger, buck-toothed beaver, big bushy head…even mudblood, again.

Almost.

Whenever Malfoy said her name, it was in a sexy way that made Hermione jump a little.  
She never thought her name was sexy but Malfoy made it sound like it was.

Now she would not be surprised if steam was coming out of her ears. Her face felt like  
it was on fire.

"Give that back to me!" she said hotly, far more forceful than she intended. She reached  
her hand across the table, trying to get the roll of parchment from Malfoy's hands.

"But of course, anything that has to do with me is surely highly sexual and arousing,"  
Malfoy drawled lazily. He then tossed the roll pf parchment on the table. Hermione  
grabbed it, rolled it up, and placed it inside a canister which she pulled out from her  
book bag.

"You've got some nerve, Malfoy," Hermione retorted. She forced herself to look into  
his eyes, so he would not think that she was nervous like a pre-teen girl or something.

Malfoy laughed hollowly while he shifted in his seat. He leaned across the table. "Who's  
got some nerve? You do. You just lied in your essay, Hermione. And that essay is for  
Potions. For Professor Snape," Malfoy whispered. Then he continued, "Are you aware  
of the implications, Hermione?"

Hermione was well aware of them. She knew that she was risking a lot. Out if spite,  
Professor Snape might give her the Veritaserum. But Hermione could not share her  
dream to anyone, especially not with Snape. The embarrassment would be too  
much to handle. She just had to take her chances.

It was Malfoy's fault. Malfoy made her do things she would not normally do.

"Of course I know, Malfoy," she answered shortly. She distractedly drew little circles  
on the table with her finger as she said, "I still stick to what I said, Malfoy. You're the  
one who's got some nerve. You were the one who stood naked before me the other  
night," Hermione said triumphantly.

"I was doing you a favour, Hermione. It's about time that your virgin eyes had their  
baptismal of fire," he said condescendingly.

Hermione bristled. She abruptly stopped drawing circles with her finger on the table.  
"What makes you think that you're doing me a favour? What makes you think that you  
know a lot about me?" she asked.

Malfoy leaned further across the table, his silvery-blond hair falling over his piercing eyes.  
"Be glad, Hermione. I choose the women who I allow to see me naked. There are a lot of  
women who want to get to know me in bed, but I'm the one who gets to pick them out.  
I've been with lots women in the biblical sense, Hermione. I know a lot about women. I  
know your type. The virginally pure type."

Hermione felt something like pain and vague jealousy course through her body. The idea  
of Malfoy being intimate with women left her feeling inexplicably sick.

She did not know what was going on inside her. She was so confused. Malfoy would not  
leave, she knew, but she just could not sit there. She stood up and went to one of the  
bookshelves nearest her table, desperately scanning the titles for some book that could  
make her feel better. One of Hermione's peculiar habits was reading a good book when  
her mind was in chaos.

Suddenly, a hand grabbed her shoulders and she was pressed against the bookshelf. The  
bookshelf was very solid against her, and she felt a slight pain starting to gnaw on her back.  
She found herself face to face with Malfoy. His body was pressed against hers, and in his  
closeness, she felt a hard poke coming through from his robes. She gasped a little upon  
feeling the pressure. It felt good.

She should push him away, she knew. But she could not because he was far heavier than  
she was, and pushing him away would be futile. And in truth, she knew she would not push  
him away even if she could. Still, she was scared with the new feelings that welled up inside  
her. She also had not forgotten that they were in the library, where they could get caught  
anytime.

"Malfoy, please let me go," she said unconvincingly.

Malfoy smiled menacingly. "You just don't turn your back on me, Hermione. That's not  
part of the game, little player," he whispered, his face so close to hers. He leaned over a  
little and then their lips met in a very wet kiss. His tongue traced the outlines of her mouth,  
then he on bit on her lower lip.

Hermione gasped at the pain, but a sudden realization hit her. She liked it. She liked the  
pain that came along with the pleasure. She thought that _that_ made her some kind of a  
pervert. But what if she really was a pervert? She had no serious and real sexual  
experiences before, so how could she know what she really wanted?

Malfoy's tongue forced to part her lips, and soon their tongues met inside their mouths.  
His tongue played with hers, and it traversed the deepest recesses of her mouth. Her  
tongue also darted into his mouth, seizing her with a desire she had never thought she  
could possibly feel.

As their lips welded to each other, Malfoy's hands pulled the hem of her short dress up  
her thighs. His fingers grazed the skin of her exposed thighs. The skin under his touch felt  
red-hot, and she gasped against Malfoy's mouth at the pleasure.

Malfoy pulled away from the smouldering kiss and looked into her eyes. "You want this,  
don't you? Little slut," he said barely above a whisper. Then he brought his left knee between  
her legs, grazing the moist heat between them with it through her underwear.

"I-I'm not a slut, M-malfoy," Hermione managed to say in between her ragged gasps  
of breathing. Her thighs involuntarily closed on Malfoy's left leg, as if urging him to rub  
her harder. _'What's happening to me? My body is betraying me!'_ her brain screamed  
in panic.

Malfoy smiled at her wickedly, "Sure I believe you," he said in a way which indicated  
that he really did not. He then lunged for her neck and sucked the smooth and sensitive  
skin. He stopped at one point near her collarbone, and he bit hard. Hermione yelped  
in half-pain, half-pleasure.

Hermione was not thinking straight. She felt like a drunk in a dream sequence. She knew  
that her body was giving in when it should not, but her mind and willpower could not do  
anything about it. She knew that lust was the most dangerous weakness of the body. But  
even that knowledge could not help her now.

She ran her hands through his soft blond hair, and she enjoyed the silky feel of his locks  
between her fingers. It was not fair to her for Malfoy to reduce her to a puddle of jelly with  
his kisses and touches. It was not fair that Malfoy had control of her while it seemed that  
she had no hold on him. Hermione was some kind of a control-freak, and it turned out that  
even in frenzied passion, she too wanted to have at least part control of the situation.

Her hands went inside his robes and she felt the bare skin of his washboard stomach. She  
caressed every bump of his well-toned abdomen, her hands marvelling at the definition of  
his body. He really had gone a long way from being a skinny, scrawny little kid. She felt  
Malfoy gasp against her neck, in the same way she had gasped earlier—helpless in pleasure.

What would Ron say when he saw her and Malfoy in this compromising position? He would  
probably go to cardiac arrest right then and there. Not because he would be jealous, but  
only because Hermione was _'fraternizing with the enemy'._

That thought made Hermione more reckless and rebellious. She was rebelling against Ron.  
Her hands reached out behind Malfoy and she traced the strong muscles of his back and his  
sides. Malfoy kept on gasping in undeniable pleasure. His breathing was now also ragged.  
She felt his erection throb against her stomach, and she let out an uncontrollable moan.

Malfoy put down his left leg, away from between her legs, and her body ached at the sudden  
lack of pressure against the core of her femininity. She pushed herself against him desperately.

_'Hermione, what the hell are you doing?!'_ a tiny voice struggling to be heard said inside  
her head. But as Malfoy's hand travelled under the dress to the moist heat between her legs,  
she became deaf to every internal battle going on inside her head. After all, she was not  
made of stone, but of flesh and blood.

Draco felt Granger's touch on his skin. He was losing control. His erection was growing  
at an alarming rate.

Still, he could not help but muse at how responsive Granger was. He had been expecting  
a struggle from her, but she must have been really sexually deprived, and now that she  
found release, she was more explosive than a volcano.

He put down his left leg, and he saw a flicker of pain flit across her face. Her eyes were  
half-closed and she was biting her lower lip. Beads of perspiration dotted her forehead.  
Damn, did she even know how sensual she looked that way? Draco could not help  
himself but run his hands up her thighs and insert his fingers into her. She was tight, yet  
moist and hot in there. He heard her moan his name.

"Malfoy," she whimpered. Her fingers raked his back as he slid his fingers in and out  
of her.

"It's not Malfoy, it's Draco," he said huskily against her ear, in between his nibbling of  
her earlobe.

He felt her pressed against him. Her breasts were full and firm; he could feel them on  
his chest through her dress and his robes.

"Draco…" he heard her whisper.

That did it for Draco. This was it. He would screw Granger's brains out right here and  
right now. He would tear off her pink little dress, and he would ravage her in this place  
which she hold with much reverence. Yes, that was the beauty of it all. Granger's first  
time would be a mutually-consented, rough sadomasochistic quickie in the library, of all  
places, with Draco Malfoy, of all people. Very unlikely of Granger, but here they were.  
Who would have thought?

Somehow, Draco knew that Granger was a virgin. He could feel Granger's inexperience  
from her touch, but she drove him insane precisely because of that. There was special kind  
of satisfaction in knowing that he would be a girl's first, and not just any girl, but Potter's  
female best friend. He briefly wondered what would Potter say about that when he found  
out. He would probably be so shocked he would look like he was Petrified. As for the  
Weasel, he would probably burst into flames out of fiery anger.

There was also something else about a virgin's touch. It was not studied, not calculated.  
It was not technical. It simply was raw and passionate. Draco was a bit tired of sleeping  
with women who treated sex as if it was some sort if technical sport. But Granger's touch  
was just needy and lustful, making Draco just as needy and lustful as she was.

His free hand reached behind Granger and he started to unzip her dress. He looked at her.  
Her hair was tousled, her lips moist. A flush of red coloured her skin, and her eyes were  
still half-closed. The straps fell around her shoulders as the dress loosened. A hickey was  
prominent on her neck where he bit her. She had a dishevelled and seductive look.

They had reached the point of no return. Draco's head was hazy; he was aware of lust,  
and only lust. He continued unzipping her dress, down to the end, while her hands frantically  
tried to unclasp his robes.

In his haste, Draco pushed Granger harder into the bookshelf.

A couple of huge, thick books fell loud and hard with a thud.

The sound was like a wake-up call to reality. Draco was so surprised at the sound that he  
stopped still. The whole of the situation must have registered in Granger's mind because the  
next moment, she gasped in shock and tried pushed him away.

"Oh God! Malfoy, let me go!" she pleaded. She was still panting heavily from arousal, but  
her expression was already guarded and panicked.

Draco let her go without struggle. It just fully hit him that they had nowhere to go but have  
sex in the library, had not for the two books that fell on the ground. All that Draco wanted  
was to have Granger at the moment, but doing it in the library was too risky. They could  
have been caught any time. So much for discretion if that happened.

His erection was causing him pain now that Granger was not pressed against his body. He  
watched as Granger zipped up and fixed her dress. She tried to tame her hair a little bit. A  
moment later they both heard footsteps, and he nervously straightened his robes and hair.

Madam Pince walked up to where he and Granger were standing, a disapproving frown  
on her lips. "I don't want noises in the library, even if there are just the three of us in here,"  
she said sternly. Then she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at them suspiciously.  
"And what were you two doing?"

Draco looked at Granger, and he saw the hickey. He then looked at Madam Pince, and  
he traced his gaze. She was looking at the tell-tale hickey. It was not that hard to miss, and  
that was just an understatement.

"Um, I was getting a book from the top shelf, and Malfoy tried to help. A couple of books  
fell. One of them hit me," Granger explained in a barely convincing tone as she touched the  
red hickey.

Draco did not know whether Madam Pince bought the story or not. Most probably, she  
did not, but maybe she just decided to give them the benefit of the doubt. There was no  
other evidence, anyway, that they had just been behaving in a way that was inappropriate  
for a library.

"Both of you, pick up those books and return them to the shelf. Then I want you to leave  
the library immediately. I believe it's dinner time already," she said sternly before she turned  
on her heels and walked away.

Granger picked up the books and stacked them back in the shelf. She then returned to her  
table to retrieve her things. She was quiet all the time and she avoided looking at him. She  
went out of the library, with Draco following her. They passed Madam Pince's disapproving  
gaze and soon they were out in the corridor.

"Hermione," Draco said as he reached out to touch her arm. To his surprise, Granger pulled  
back from him violently.

"Don't touch me!" she said angrily. She clutched her book bag protectively over her chest.

"I was under the impression earlier that you enjoy my touching you…in intimate places, at  
that," Draco said smoothly.

"Leave me alone, Malfoy. You're scaring me. Now isn't that what you want? You want  
everyone to be frightened of you so that could feel powerful. Yes, now I'm scared of you!  
You've got your power or whatever now! So please just stay away from me and leave me  
alone!" Granger shrieked out and she fled down the corridor. Draco saw the tears flow  
down her cheeks before she fled.

"Crazy girl," Draco muttered under his breath as he watched Hermione turn around the  
corner.

If there was anyone who ought to be scared, it was him. Granger made him lose control…  
and that loss of control could lead to exposure. He was warned by Voldemort that he had  
to be discreet. If Madam Pince caught Granger and him while having crazed sex in the  
library, surely they would be turned over to Dumbledore. The Head of houses for Slytherin  
and Gryffindor, Professors Snape and McGonagall respectively, would also be told.

But did he think of that while he was pressed against her? No. That was what scared him  
most.

In the first place, all he planned to do in the library was to tease her a little bit, make her  
feel uncomfortable. He planned to take his mission slowly, surely, and discreetly.

He had not expected his arousal to go berserk and get the best of him.

No other woman could make him feel reckless. All the time before, the women he had  
were the ones who had thrown cautions to the winds, not him. He was always the one in  
control...until Hermione Granger came along.

Draco Malfoy was scared of what she could be. If Hermione Granger would become  
fully aware of the power of her sexuality, he knew that she could have him wrapped  
around her little finger easily.

Hermione ran down the corridors, crying pitifully. Fortunately, no one saw her in such a  
state, except for the paintings that were hanging against the walls. But the paintings usually  
minded their own businesses, so she was not asked by anyone.

She reached the portrait of the Fat Lady. Hermione hastily dried her tears. The Fat Lady,  
being the guardian of the Gryffindor dormitories, was prone to act motherly towards all  
Gryffindors. Usually, Hermione didn't mind that—she even found it sweet—but right now  
she just don't want to be at the receiving end of prying questions.

"Password?" The Fat Lady asked as Hermione stepped up in front of the portrait. The  
Fat Lady took in Hermione's red-rimmed eyes and asked, "Oh dear, are you all right?  
Your eyes are all red!"

"Twinkle star," Hermione muttered the password. The Fat Lady told everything to her  
friend Violet from the downstairs painting, so Hermione knew that she must come up with  
a safe answer. "I've got sore eyes," she explained.

"Oh you poor dear!" the Fat Lady said as the portrait door swung open.

Hermione climbed inside and was relieved to see that the common room was deserted  
except for a few first and second year students who were too busy poring over their  
school work to notice any other thing. Most probably almost everyone was in the Great  
Hall for dinner.

She ran up to her room. She flung her book bag on the bed as fresh tears flowed down  
from her eyes.

She sat down on the bed and buried her face in her hands. She was scared of Malfoy  
and of what he could make her feel. But more importantly, she was more scared of herself.

If the books had not fallen, she knew she would have gone all the way with Malfoy.  
Malfoy! What was wrong with her? Was she some sort of a closet sex maniac? Why  
was she very weak? Why could she not resist? Was she doing it out of spite, because  
of Ron?

She just imagined what could happen if Madam Pince caught them in the act. It would  
be so humiliating. The whole faculty would know. The whole school would know. Her  
parents, Ron, Harry, Ginny, the rest of the Weasleys…everyone she cared for would find  
out, and they would get really angry and disappointed in her. Everyone would talk and  
gossip endlessly about the whole thing, because the Head Girl and Miss-Goody-Two-  
Shoes did it with the school rogue and Death Eater in-the-making.

Supposedly she and Malfoy had sex and they did not get caught. At least that was a  
better consolation, but the situation would still be just as bleak. Was she ready for sex?  
Could she handle the regrets after it? And did she want to lose her virginity that way?  
Of course she wanted to have sex, but she preferred doing it with a man she loved. She  
did not love Malfoy. She was attracted to him, all right, but she did not love him.

But she also could not deny a nagging voice inside her head. _'You want Draco Malfoy!_  
_You want to have sex with Draco Malfoy!'_ the voice shrieked mercilessly in her head.  
She wanted more than Malfoy's fingers inside of her.

She now hated Draco Malfoy more than ever for messing up her life.

She got up from her bed and reached for her vanity kit near the mirror. She searched  
through her kit and took out a bottle of liquid concealer that was charmed to take on the  
exact colour of one's skin once it was applied. She had to do something about the  
damned hickey. Even if she changed into school robes, there was still a chance that it  
would be seen. She did not want to take that chance.

She sat on the bed again. She was too absorbed in trying to untwist the tightly closed  
cover of the liquid concealer to hear that someone knocking on her door. Hermione did  
not notice that someone was opening the door. She did not notice that Ginny had  
poked her head through the doorway.

"Hermione?" Ginny asked tentatively. Hermione looked up in surprise and alarm.

Hermione tried to cover the hickey with one of her palms but it was too late. Ginny's  
eyes widened at the hickey on Hermione's neck.

"Herm, that's a hickey on your neck! Who gave it to you?"


	8. Hiatus Notice!

_Author's Note:_

I know using this as a author's note is not allowed, but it's important!

**DARK CHILD**

Current Status **till** 28/8/08

On **HIATUS**


	9. Chapter 8

__

**_Chapter 8_**

Ginny threw the door wide open to the bedroom. She ran up to Hermione who was  
sitting on the bed. She bent down and with a swift gesture, she lightly pulled away Hermione's  
palm which covered the tell-tale mark. Ginny then peered closely at Hermione's neck. All the  
while Hermione sat stiffly, still frozen in surprise and alarm. The tightly closed bottle of liquid  
concealer was now lying neglected on the bed after Hermione tossed it aside in shock.

"Hi Ginny. What are you doing here?" Hermione managed to ask weakly.

"Harry and Ron asked me to fetch you for dinner. We thought you were in the library. But  
you weren't there so I figured that you'll be here," she explained hastily, her eyes still focused  
on Hermione's neck. "Ooooh, that's one big hickey. Must've been one hot kiss," Ginny  
murmured, her gaze now taking in the size and redness of the kiss mark.

"That isn't a hickey. It's an insect bite of some sort," Hermione reasoned. But Hermione  
knew that although she was a tolerably good liar, she was not an expert one. Ginny was a  
smart girl, and a close friend who happened to know her well; Hermione knew that she  
could not fool Ginny.

As if to affirm Hermione's thoughts, Ginny snorted and said, "I know a hickey when I see  
one, Hermione. I've been getting a few of those lately."

"From Harry?" Hermione asked absently.

Ginny then stood up in front of Hermione. Ginny's expression became serious.

"No, from Draco Malfoy," Ginny said gravely.

Hermione's mouth literally gaped open, forming a perfectly round O. Did she hear Ginny  
right? Malfoy? _'Oh no, I'm losing my marbles…or maybe I'm now living in some_  
_alternate universe,'_ Hermione thought frantically. The more sensible side of Hermione  
made her think that maybe Ginny found out about her tryst with Malfoy earlier in the library,  
and Ginny was just getting her to admit it. Ginny had a way of making people open up to  
her, and it seemed that she would take all her skills in making Hermione spill the beans. But  
what if Malfoy really was on the prowl, seducing girls along the way? What if she and  
Ginny were among Malfoy's possibly many victims?

"Ginny…!" Hermione whispered in disbelief.

Ginny sat on the four-poster bed. "God, Hermione, I was just kidding, okay! Don't tell me  
you actually bought it!" she exclaimed. Then she took a good look at Hermione's eyes. "Oh,  
you did. You really did. I actually got you there?" Ginny whispered in awe.

Hermione nodded weakly. Inside, she felt relief wash over her like a flood.

"As if I'd like to get hickeys from anybody but Harry! And Malfoy? Oh please. I have  
better taste than that, Herm. He's devilishly handsome all right, but that's what he is—a  
Slytherin devil!" Ginny exclaimed again, and she slapped her hand on the bed to emphasize  
the point. Then she focused her attention on Hermione again. "If you don't want to tell me  
who gave you that kiss mark, I won't push it, okay? But please, at least, don't deny what  
that is to me. You're my friend. Besides, I don't believe you anyway," Ginny said seriously.  
Then she giggled. "No one will believe you! Insect bite? Oh please, Herm, you can lie  
better than that!" she said laughingly.

Hermione smiled in spite of herself as she looked at her laughing friend. She also pondered  
over what Ginny said. It was true that Ginny knew when to stop asking questions. That at  
least was an assurance that Ginny would not bug her to name any names.

"Okay, so it's a hickey. Everyone gets one sometimes," Hermione said simply, trying to  
keep her tone as light as possible despite being very nervous inside.

Ginny's mouth hung open. "Oooooh! Who's the guy?" Ginny asked excitedly. Then a  
naughty expression settled in her brown eyes. "Or girl?" she added wickedly.

"Ginny! I'm straight, okay," Hermione said. Hermione, being the open-minded person  
that she was, had nothing against homosexuals. She just did not like it when people think  
she was something when she really was not.

"Okay, so who's the guy?" Ginny asked again.

"I'm sorry Gin. I can't tell who the guy is. I can't tell you how it happened. Everything's  
hazy yet. I'm not telling anyone. You'd be the first to know if I decided to tell it to someone,"  
Hermione said seriously. "The only thing I can tell you is what you already know. A guy  
kissed me, that's all. It happens all the time to every girl. I just don't feel like talking about  
it, please," she said.

"Okay I'll stop bugging you. But I'd just like to know, are you serious with this guy?"  
Ginny asked.

Was Hermione serious with Draco Malfoy? No. She did not even like him. Yes, he was  
physically attractive, but that was all. However what they almost did was a serious matter  
in itself, and the fact that it was Malfoy who she was involved with made the whole thing  
even more gravely serious. Hermione couldn't answer. She reached for the bottle of liquid  
concealer lying beside her and idly toyed with it instead. She tried to keep her face as  
expressionless as possible, to avoid giving away any emotions.

Ginny took in Hermione's silence. She looked disappointed, but she kept her word. She  
stopped bugging Hermione about it.

They sat side by side in silence. It was the comfortable silence that could only exist between  
two close friends. Hermione felt that Ginny understood…but would she still understand if she  
found out that the guy was Draco Malfoy?

Ginny turned to look at Hermione again. To Hermione's surprise, Ginny looked sad and  
grave. "I joined Harry and Ron after Mia showed me all her magazines. You just left for the  
library that time, or so that's what Ron said. I was with Harry and Ron the whole time that  
you were gone," she said, breaking the silence.

Hermione was confused. What was Ginny getting at? She looked at Ginny questioningly.

"It means that it's not Ron. It isn't Ron," Ginny said sadly. She looked searchingly into  
Hermione's eyes, as if silently asking her to say that she was mistaken.

Hermione now understood what Ginny meant. "No, Ginny. It isn't Ron," she answered  
softly.

Ginny smiled a little, but her eyes were still sad. "Well, you know how I always wish you  
two would get together. But it's Ron's fault. He's too slow and too dense," she murmured  
reflectively. Then she smiled sheepishly. "Now you think I'm some kind of an idiot. It's  
just that…oh, one of my secret wishes is for you to be my sister someday…you know, in  
law…there, I said it," Ginny said. "But of course, you can't wait for Ron forever. At least  
you're happy with this guy, right?" Ginny continued.

Hermione sighed inwardly. Now she really felt guilty. Ginny thought that she was serious  
with the guy. And was she happy as Ginny thought she was? If anything, she was sadder  
than ever. It was because Hermione also secretly wished what Ginny just confided in her.

"Please don't tell anyone, Gin," Hermione said, avoiding Ginny's question. It would be  
chaotic if people found out anything about what was going on between her and Malfoy.  
But Hermione had no worries about Ginny. They both keep each other's secrets. Ginny  
never told anyone about Hermione's date with Viktor to the Yule Ball when they were  
in fourth year. She never told anyone how Hermione felt about Ron. In turn, Hermione  
never breathed a word to anyone how Ginny liked Harry before the two of them got  
together.

"Of course I won't Herm. You're secret's safe with me," Ginny promised with a smile.  
"I know I'm not supposed to know anything about the guy yet…but, Hermione, I do  
hope he's not a Slytherin!" Ginny said with laughter in her voice.

Hermione felt her stomach lurch, but she managed to smile weakly. This was harder  
than she imagined.

Ginny reached for the bottle of liquid concealer in Hermione's hand and took it. "Hey,  
we better cover up that thing on your neck!"

As Ginny struggled to open the bottle, Hermione thought of the mess she got herself into.  
If she got any deeper into the situation, she would have to hide more than a hickey. But  
Hermione knew that she was already in too deep.

As Hermione walked down the corridor back to the Gryffindor tower, she pondered  
over what happened the few previous days. It had been three days since that incident  
with Malfoy at the library. She preferred to call it incident. She thought that the term  
'incident' made whatever happened a bit impersonal. She avoided thinking about the  
incident. It was all too confusing, almost surreal.

The three days went by peacefully…too peacefully, in fact, for Hermione's liking. It  
seemed like it was the calm before the storm. No one noticed her hickey after Ginny had  
expertly covered it up three days ago. Now it was fading already, so she would not have  
to worry about it. Madam Pince seemed to have forgotten—or chose to forget—anything  
that she might have been thinking when she caught her and Malfoy in the library. Hermione  
knew that Madam Pince doubted her explanation. However, when Hermione first came  
back again to the library after the incident, the librarian was being her usual self, much to  
Hermione's relief. She could not handle it if the librarian asked more questions.

Last Tuesday, she turned in to Professor Snape her essay on the Ubernocturniserum. That  
was what she was really nervous about, but Hermione believed that there was nothing in the  
essay Snape could point out as a fabrication. Sure, the essay was a complete lie, but  
Hermione knew that she wrote it well—detailed and consistent. Snape would not know  
have any basis that it was a lie. And for God's sake, it was an essay about a dream. As  
far as Hermione was concerned, whatever she submitted—the truth or a lie—it would not  
make a difference. So far Professor Snape had not mentioned anything about her essay, so  
she assumed that Snape did not see any signs of fabrication. Besides, students did minor  
cheating all the time and they never got caught. Ron and Harry always cheated in Divination  
by coming up with ridiculous, so-called fatal prophecies, which were all but true. Look at  
Ron and Harry now—at the top of their Divination class.

She still could not believe what she did. Sure, she had broken lots of school rules before,  
but she never cheated in her schoolwork. Everything she turned in to the teachers before  
were products of hard work and observation. She had never doctored any data before. She  
would not even let Harry and Ron cop her assignment and essays. What made her cheat,  
then? Aside from the fact that she did not want to Snape to hear about such intimate details,  
there was the fact that Malfoy definitely had influenced her. Malfoy had succeeded in making  
her do what others—even her closest friends—could not make her do. _'And not just in_  
_terms of homework,_ Hermione thought. But she did not want to think about that yet.

She let her thoughts drift to somewhere else, and it was then that she realized that the last  
three days also spared her of Malfoy. She had managed to avoid him. Sooner or later she  
knew that they would come face to face again, but she preferred later. She was not ready  
yet. What could she say to a guy she disliked but nearly had sex with? It would be too  
uncomfortable for words.

Hermione noticed that it seemed that she was the only who was doing the avoiding. Malfoy  
did not seek her, but he did not avoid her either. When she, Ron, and Harry met Malfoy,  
Crabbe, and Goyle yesterday down the dungeons towards Potions class, Malfoy gave the  
three of them his usual tirade of insults. For once, she could not retort anything back. She  
could not look at Malfoy without blushing beet-red. Why was she the only one affected and  
not Malfoy? Her feminine pride was hurt. It seemed that to Malfoy, what happened was just  
nothing. _'Of course it's nothing to him. It should mean nothing to me, too. Right from_  
_the start I've known that it's a game, and I said that I'll be a player,'_ Hermione reminded  
herself. She must not forget what she had gotten herself into, even if she really was not sure  
what it was.

At the very least, Malfoy was acting like his usual self around Hermione. At least, things  
were as normal as they could possible be.

Well, if having Sigurdins around school would be considered normal. In the past three  
days, a few squads of Sigurdins—some of the youngest were in their early twenties, it  
seemed—stationed themselves at every entrance and exit of the Hogwarts grounds.  
Hermione could not help but compare Sigurdins to muggle police. Of course, Sugurdins  
did not carry guns or any other artillery. They simply carried wands, but they were expertly  
trained for defense and fighting. They were a level below the Aurors in terms of expertise.  
Dumbledore told the students that the Sigurdins were at Hogwarts for simple precautionary  
measures in light of You-Know-Who's return since three years ago; he said there was no  
immediate reason for anyone to worry. A feeling of cold fear washed over her. The fact that  
Professor Dumbledore told them not to worry was a good reason to worry. First, classes  
were suspended and now the school was heavily guarded. At least Hermione was grateful  
that the dementors were not the ones who guarded Hogwarts now. The Sigurdins were  
human, thankfully, and most of them were really friendly. Some of the male Sigurdins even  
became objects of schoolgirl crushes in just three days.

She had just turned a corner when she felt someone tap her shoulder. She turned around,  
and she saw someone she wanted to see the least.

Hermione felt the blood drain from her face. The first thing that came to her mind was to  
run away, and that was what she did. But she was not able to go very far, because the  
same person she was running away from caught her by the arm.

"Is that what you're planning to do? Run away from me forever?" Malfoy said harshly as  
he pulled her to his chest. He gripped both her arms, so her book bag—in which she kept  
her wand—fell on the floor.

Hermione forced herself to calm down. She looked at the corridor out of the corners of  
her eyes. There was no one, and all the rooms were dark and most probably empty. It was  
already half an hour before curfew, so all students must be in their common rooms right now.  
The Sigurdins were all outside, guarding the perimeters of the school. She desperately wished  
Filch would show up, but he would not be making rounds until curfew started. So basically,  
she and Malfoy were alone down a deserted corridor.

She looked up at him, and she saw those gray eyes that held their usual coldness. But  
she had seen those same eyes holding lust and intensity during the incident in the library.  
No, she could not allow herself to be this close. They almost forgot themselves in the  
library. She did not trust Malfoy, and she did not trust herself. For her part, Hermione  
knew that the incident was not just hormones and sexual appetite. For her, it was the  
culmination of all sorts of repression she had posed on herself all these years. As for  
Malfoy—she did not want to know what other motivation beside lust Malfoy had. With  
all these in consideration, what could stop them from forgetting themselves here at a  
deserted corridor?

She struggled against him, but all in vain. He was too strong. She considered screaming,  
but it did not assure her that Malfoy would let her go or help would come. If she could  
not escape after screaming, there was a possibility that Malfoy could do something worse  
to her than grip her arms.

So she spat on his face. For safety measure, she spat again, this time, on his eyes.

"What the fuck!" Malfoy yelled. He immediately released Hermione's arms to wipe his  
face with his sleeves.

Now she was free. She could run straight to Professor McGonagall and tell her that she  
was being harassed by Malfoy. But something made her stand rooted on the spot. Something  
fell on the floor when Malfoy released her. It rested on her feet. It was a round white-gold  
timepiece attached to a thick chain of white gold. It lay on the floor like an oversized open  
locket. One side was the face of a clock. The other side was a portrait of a platinum-blond,  
happy family.

Against her better judgement she picked it up and studied it.

Malfoy was still rubbing his eyes by then, but it was apparent that he was able to see  
clearly enough again to see Hermione holding the timepiece.

"Give that back to me!" he snarled. He came near Hermione. He looked like a raging bull  
which just saw red. But instead of avoiding him, she reached out her hand which held the  
white-gold timepiece.

"I'm sorry. Here," Hermione said. She was not able to look at the portrait for long, but  
she had looked long enough to see that it was a portrait of the Malfoys in earlier years. A  
younger Lucius and Narcissa were holding a cute blond toddler in their arms. There was  
no mistaking that the blond toddler was Draco Malfoy. There were smiles on all their faces.  
The Malfoys all looked formal indeed, unlike the Weasley family portraits where all of the  
Weasleys were waving enthusiastically and grinning widely. Still, Hermione knew a real  
happy smile when she saw one, and all Malfoys in the portrait wore it.

If Malfoy wanted to hit or curse her, he must have forgotten it, because he looked at her  
in surprise, but he quickly recovered. "Did I hear you right? Did you just say sorry?" he  
asked sarcastically as he grabbed the timepiece from her offered hand.

Hermione nodded. "Yeah. I'm sorry I spat on you," she said quietly as she looked at  
the floor. She did not know why, but there was something about the portrait that made  
her feel guilty. It was a vague indescribable feeling, but somehow, she saw a side of  
Malfoy in that portrait, and she was guilty for ever thinking that Malfoy had always been  
an insufferable git and that all of the Malfoys did not know how it was to be really happy.

Malfoy reached out inside his robes to pocket the timepiece. He still looked like he was  
going to burst out of anger, so Hermione blurted out, "I'm really sorry, okay! I really am!"  
Before she could stop herself, she gently touched his cheek with her right hand.

Malfoy seemed to make a move to swat her hand away, but his angry look quickly  
dissolved into a half-confused, half-incredulous one. They stood silently, gazing at each  
other, for a fleeting moment. Hermione was drawn and transfixed. It was a scary yet  
pleasant feeling.

It ended as quickly as it started. It was Malfoy who broke the silence, and Hermione  
dropped her hand as soon as he spoke. "I'm letting you go now, but don't ever spit on  
my face again unless you want to be sorry you were ever born," Malfoy said  
dangerously.

_'I have to run away. And stay away,'_ Hermione reminded herself. Yet somehow, she  
was not that afraid of Malfoy anymore. If anything, she desperately wanted to reach out  
to him. She never tried reaching out to Malfoy before. She really did not know what to  
say that could make him realize that she was sincere. She just hoped that she could do it  
right. How do you break down walls, anyway? "That's a beautiful portrait of your family  
in the locket. I'm sorry that…that Lucius is dead," Hermione whispered sincerely. She  
really hoped that she did it right.

Malfoy's face reddened a bit. "How dare you speak of _my_ father like that! Don't be a  
hypocrite! Don't mock me! You're not sorry that my father is dead. He was a Death Eater,  
remember! You're happy that he's dead!" he said angrily.

"You know what, you're damn right! I'm not sorry that Lucius the Death Eater is dead!  
I'm sorry because Lucius the father is dead! But now I don't see why I'm even sorry,  
when obviously you're not!" Hermione said shrilly. Her efforts were not appreciated, but  
she half-expected that already. Still, it hurt her to be accused so wrongly.

"If there's anyone who's the sorriest, it's me! That was my father we're talking about!  
Contrary to what you think, my father meant something to me!" Malfoy bellowed. With  
that he turned on his heel and angrily stormed away.

But not before Hermione saw a flicker of sadness in his eyes.

Draco lay on his four-poster bed, his eyes wide open. His roommates, particularly Crabbe  
and Goyle, were snoring soundly in their sleep. It seemed that Draco was the only one awake  
in their room.

He turned to his side, shifting his goose-feather pillow underneath his head. _'Damn it!'_  
he thought. Lucius Malfoy was a sensitive subject for him. His family was a sensitive subject,  
for that matter.

Granger said that the Malfoy family portrait was beautiful. If she knew—if anyone just  
knew—what happened to that family now.

His father was now dead. His mother…his mother was now mad. Insane. Crazy.

After his father died, his mother gradually became detached from her surroundings. She  
slowly withdrew from the outside world, until she became lost in her own little world.  
Nobody could bring her back, not even Draco, because she would not let anybody in.  
It was useless to try, though. Narcissa Malfoy had peace in her own fantasy world. Draco  
thought that his mother had found happiness again in her solitude. It was false peace, and  
false happiness; yet it was better than a reality of pain and misery. It was better than  
seeing her mourn over her dead husband.

Draco would not have his mother be confined to St. Mungo's. It would be degrading not  
just to the family name in general but her mother's name in particular. Instead, she was at  
the Malfoy Manor, being taken care of by a nurse and by the Malfoys' long-time servants.  
They were all sworn to secrecy. If they let anything out, Draco would make sure that they  
would be sorry they ever existed.

Draco often wondered just how deep his parents' relationship had been. He often  
wondered because he was not deaf to rumours. He knew that people always saw the  
Malfoys as a dysfunctional family. He had grown up hearing gossip on how his parents  
got together—fixed marriage, use of Imperius Curse, forced wedding, marriage for  
money and blood, marriage out of tradition. Draco, however, never knew the truth. He  
never asked, and his parents never divulged information on that matter. The Malfoy  
household was not tolerant of probing questions. But that did not mean that Draco would  
not think about it every now and then. His parents certainly were not the showy and  
affectionate type, but almost twenty years of marriage must have meant something; and  
after seeing his mother waste away after his father's death, Draco knew that the marriage  
did mean something.

It was only Draco who thought of that. Most people thought that Narcissa and Lucius  
Malfoy were partners in nothing more than in just one big mockery of a marriage.

Was Granger mocking him when she said that she was sorry his father was dead?  
Was she one of those people? It didn't seem that she was, but Draco didn't want to  
believe that. He must not make exceptions. People were all the same.

In his frustration he pounded a fist on his bed. Granger was messing up his mind, big time.

He had been following her ever since he drafted a course of action for his mission. He  
started following her subtly around school since early this week. Draco was not fond of  
going to the library but he did just for the sake of following and teasing her—all part of  
his grand plan of seducing Granger. But after the out-of-hand tryst in the library, he  
decided to lie low a little. He needed the time to remind himself the importance of iron  
self-control. He needed a break from Granger, because she had touched him at a  
sexual level. It might just be sexual, but it was still definitely a weakness in his part.

Mind over matter—that was what he held on to. When he saw her again earlier, he had  
been convinced that he had conquered himself. It was the reason why he decided that he  
could go back harassing Granger a bit without getting too involved himself.

What he never counted on was Granger touching him at a very different level this time.  
It was almost at an emotional level.

Almost. He insisted to himself that it was just almost, but not quite. Still, he had not  
been prepared. Draco thought that when it came to dealing with the memory of his  
father, he could never be prepared. He could never be completely emotionless when  
it came to Lucius Malfoy.

_'Oh fuck it!'_ Draco thought angrily. Why did Granger have a knack of getting the best  
of him? She was one of the very few people who could stand up against him, and as far  
as Draco thought, she was the only female among them. She could lash out retorts that  
would definitely touch a nerve. She had been doing that since they were in first year. He  
would never admit it to anyone, but he always had the least bit of reluctant admiration for  
Granger. After all, he was used to people trying to suck up to him, and that would get  
boring every now and then. He had to give credit to someone who dared to be different  
like Granger.

_'What the fucking hell!'_ Draco thought as ire and frustration seeped into his veins. He  
restlessly tossed and turned on his bed. This whole deal with Granger was far more difficult  
than he ever imagined. It was getting harder every day.

Hours later after her encounter with Malfoy, Hermione sneaked down the halls, quietly  
praying that Filch or Mrs. Norris wouldn't catch her. She just came from the prefect's  
bathroom, having finished her nightly bath. She silently berated herself. Her inability to  
go to sleep without taking a bath could cost her a lot of trouble. Indeed, it had already  
cost her lot of trouble…and with no less than Malfoy. Finally, she reached, unscathed,  
the entrance to the Gryffindor dormitories. She sighed with relief.

"Password?" The Fat Lady asked Hermione sleepily.

"Amazing bouncing ferret!" Hermione declared with a flourish. She was the one who  
recently changed the password from "Twinkle star" to that insulting moniker for Malfoy  
out of spite. The portrait door swung open, and Hermione walked in quietly.

The Gryffindor common room was empty. It was ten minutes past one in the morning,  
and everyone else had turned in for the night.

Hermione sat on one of the chairs facing the fireplace. Her hair was still wet from her  
nightly shower, and she didn't feel like sleeping yet. Instead, she stared at the glowing  
embers of the fire, the light reflected in her cinnamon eyes.

It was a perfect time to think, especially now that she had a lot of things to think about.  
Usually the common room was filled with noisy Gryffindors, but at the moment, it seemed  
to be the one of the most peaceful places in the world.

She leaned back on her seat. Her outward appearance made her look like she was just  
relaxing; but inside, another one of those confusing inner struggles was going on.

Hermione had managed to avoid thinking about the incident. One of the pressing matters  
shoved to the back of her head surfaced now in her solitude. _'What made me do it?_  
_What's the root cause of it all?'_

It was simply not restricted to hormones. If hormones were the only thing she had to  
worry about, she could have fought off Malfoy in the library three days ago. But such  
was not the case. It was the culmination of everything else. It was her defiance and  
rebellion against Ron. It was also her being sick and tired of looking wistfully at the  
sweet couples around school. It was also her escape from all the expectations that were  
piled up high on her. It was also submission to the freedom from the chains of her  
responsibilities. It was her excuse to do something unpredictable. It was a protest  
against all the stereotypes that she was labeled with.

It was as if the incident at the library was a catalyst for all pent-up feelings she had. All  
these years she had worked hard to be where she was now. But being at the top had its  
own shortcomings. She was expected to be stable and predictable. It was as if everyone  
was using her as the criteria for stability. If word got out that Hermione did something  
bad, naughty, or out-of-bounds, people would start talking about the world coming to  
an end or something like that. It was annoying, really. It made her seem boring, plain,  
uptight...and hopelessly static.

She should never ever repress herself like that. Maybe she should loosen up a bit. She  
could only take so much, and there would always come a point where she would be full  
to the brim and the only way out was to explode. She had now seen what happened  
when little things add up, so she decided to let loose every now and then instead of letting  
loose at one go, which proved to be scary and uncontrollable.

Hermione was not really the self-confident witch as she seemed to be. She was an insecure  
girl, who worked hard to prove her worth. Once people saw the real Hermione, they would  
know that she was vulnerable.

She wondered if Malfoy had his vulnerable side to him. She was almost sure that she  
saw a softer side of Malfoy earlier. But she did not dare hope that Malfoy could be in  
any way vulnerable. She should know well enough to stay away. _'Just because I'm_  
_vulnerable, doesn't mean that everyone is,'_ she reminded herself.

A feminine voice broke into her thoughts. "Hermione? Is that you? You still up?" someone  
called out to Hermione from behind her seat.

Hermione looked behind her and saw Parvati in her purple nightdress, her midnight-black  
hair flowing loosely around her face.

"Oh, hi Parvati. I'm not sleepy yet. I'm just killing time," Hermione said to the girl. She  
then patted the seat beside her. "How about you? Wanna sit?"

Parvati nodded and sat down at the seat beside Hermione. She too, stared into the  
glowing fire.

"I couldn't sleep either. I didn't know that anyone would still be up," Parvati whispered.  
She had a dreamy look and a goofy grin on her face. Then she giggled to herself.

"Uh, are you okay, Parvati?" Hermione asked cautiously. Sure, Parvati was a giggly girl  
to begin with, but Hermione could never be too sure. Parvati now looked more spaced out  
than she ever did.

"Oh Hermione, I just have to show you this!" Parvati confided girlishly. Then she reached  
behind her neck with both hands. Moments later, she held a silver necklace from her hand.  
She dangled it in front of Hermione's eyes.

"May I see it?" Hermione asked eagerly. The silver reflected the light from the fire so it  
sparkled brightly from certain angles.

Parvati nodded. "Sure thing," she said. Hermione reached for the necklace and cradled  
it in her hand. She looked at it closely. It was a fine chain of silver, and the pendant was a  
large silver star. In the middle of the star was a round stone. Hermione peered closely.  
She thought that it was rhinestone, but she now saw that it was not simply just it. She  
thought that she saw something inside it. She brought the pendant to her right eye and  
peered inside the rhinestone. To her surprise she saw a portrait of a bright starry sky. The  
necklace was simple yet exquisite in its beauty and simplicity.

"This is beautiful!" Hermione said as she returned the necklace to Parvati, who eagerly  
wore it around her neck again.

"Neville gave it to me. He thought that the stars are appropriate because they're the  
reason why we got close in the first place. You know, it all started when I helped him  
with his Divination, after all," Parvati said. Then she blushed. "Oh sorry, I might be  
boring you to death," she said.

"No, no, of course not!" Hermione said. She paused for a while to think about how she  
would phrase her next sentences without sounding gossipy or intruding.

"Um, Parvati, if you don't mind me asking…how did you and Neville got together? All  
I knew was that you became friends and the next thing you're an item already," Hermione  
said. Then it was her turn to blush. "But if you think I'm being too nosy, then it'd be okay  
if you don't want to talk about it," she added hastily.

Parvati laughed. "No you're not! I'd love to tell you, just don't sleep on me, okay?" she  
said brightly. Hermione nodded.

"Okay, where do I start? Oh Professor Trelawney asked me to tutor him in Divination  
in fifth year. I guess you've known that, eh?" Parvati asked Hermione.

"Yeah," Hermione replied with a slight nod.

"Okay, so we became friends while I was tutoring him. Fifth year, then. It was the time  
that You-Know-Who regained power," Parvati said, shuddering a little. "It was also the  
time when Neville decided to tell everyone what really happened to his parents so  
people would know just horrible You-Know-Who is," she continued. She looked at  
Hermione. "It was hard for him to do so, but he did. I admire him for that," Parvati said.

Hermione remembered that well. Neville finally told everyone that his parents were  
insane, and not dead as some people thought they were. Neville wanted people to know  
that You-Know-Who's evilness was real and terrible, and he used his parents as an  
example of You-Know-Who's lack of mercy. As a result, people gained a new respect  
for Neville and for his parents as well. Of course, the Slytherins teased him relentlessly  
about having insane parents, but the rest of the student body thought that it was a very  
brave thing for Neville to do.

"Oh I admire Neville for that, too," Hermione said in agreement.

Parvati smiled. "So where were we?" She paused to think. "Ah, okay. So he opened up  
to people about his parents. He even told people about the memory charms that he was  
subjected to when he was a baby," Parvati said.

Hermione knew that, too. It turned out that Neville's memory lapses were not inborn.  
The truth was that baby Neville witnessed his mother's torture. After that, he started  
waking up in the middle of the night, crying relentlessly for hours after he had woken up.  
His grandmother thought that he was traumatized and was having nightmares. He was  
too young to talk then, so he had been subjected to a memory reflect-ray, which was  
similar to muggle x-ray. Instead of bones, however, the memory reflect–ray returned  
images from one's memory. And so it was confirmed that baby Neville had the horrendous  
images of his mother's painful suffering in their own home, at the hands of some hooded  
Death Eaters. It was then that the doctors at St. Mungo's decided to subject him to  
memory charms, so he could live without dealing with the trauma. However, since Neville  
had been so young, the side effects of the charm had been stronger than the average; that  
explained for his frequent forgetfulness.

"Hermione, have you ever wondered how Neville improved a lot, specially in terms of his  
poor memory? He isn't as forgetful now as he had been before," Parvati asked Hermione.  
She shifted in her seat to a slightly reclining position.

"Uh…the charms lost their side effect?" Hermione answered. She knew that the side  
effects of memory charms could wear off sometimes, so she assumed that it was the  
case with Neville.

Parvati shook her head. "It didn't happen that way with Neville. So, the summer before  
sixth year, he decided to seek psychiatric help at St. Mungo's. He wanted to deal with the  
trauma, so he could fight off the barriers of the memory charm," she explained.

Hermione was surprised. She did not know that. "Should you be telling me this?" she  
asked shyly. "Maybe I'm intruding too much," she said. She wanted to know Neville and  
Parvati's story, but she did not want to be too nosy.

Parvati sat up straight in her seat. "Well, I want to share to you how we got together,  
Herm. You wouldn't understand if I didn't tell you that," she said. She looked straight  
into Hermione's eyes. "I told you because I trust you. I also know that you'll understand,  
because you're open-minded and you care about Neville. I know you asked because  
you care to know about it, unlike some people who asked me just for gossip's sake,"  
she said firmly. There was a pause, then Parvati spoke up again, this time to continue her  
narrative. "Anyway, it turned out that the psychotherapy was emotionally hard for him.  
At that time I was seeking professional help too at St. Mungo's for bulimia," Parvati said.  
Hermione's eyes grew wide. Parvati chuckled. "Yes I had bulimia when we were in fifth  
year! I was pretty much messed up. So there, Neville and I spent a good part of the  
summer for visits to St. Mungo's. We often saw each other there. We basically shared  
the same thing about dealing with the things we wanted to run away from. We understood  
each other. We got closer, and the rest is history," Parvati finished off reflectively.

Hermione sat in stunned silence. She did not realize how much other people also went  
through. Everyone had his or her demons to deal with. As she sat thinking about what  
Parvati just confided in her, she felt a newfound respect for both Parvati and Neville. They  
were the kind of people that these dark times needed. They were everything that You-  
Know-who had never been and never would be.

Parvati looked at Hermione curiously. "I guess you now think Neville and I make a  
pair of loons, eh? I guess we give new meaning to_ 'crazy in love',_" she said giggling.  
Then her face turned serious, "Please don't tell anyone I told you, Herm. Promise me,"  
she said urgently.

"I promise," Hermione answered sincerely. Then her face broke out in a huge grin.  
"And no, I don't think you're a pair of loons. Not all the time, anyway," she said  
mischievously. Both girls giggled softly so as not to wake anyone up. As the giggles  
subsided, Hermione looked wistfully into the fire. "I just wish I could have something  
like you and Neville have, you know. But it seems that no one's interested to have  
that kind of thing with me," she said longingly. "I wonder what's wrong with me,"  
she asked more to herself than at Parvati.

"Oh Herm! You're smart, sweet, pretty, and kind. A lot of guys are surely interested.  
It's just that you're so intimidating! Head Girl, class brain, and you've got protective  
bodyguards for best friends! They're the Boy Who Lived and the most volatile Weasley,  
for crying out loud! And the fact that you dated a world-famous Seeker doesn't help  
any interested guy's ego," Parvati pointed out with a passion. "Nothing's wrong with  
you. It's the guys who have a problem with their insecurities," she said with a flourish.

Hermione laughed. "Hey thanks," she said warmly. Hermione and Parvati might not  
belong in the same circle of friends, but being under the same house and same year for  
nearly seven years did not amount to nothing.

"No problem! Thanks too!" Parvati answered. She yawned and then looked up at the  
clock. "It's almost two in the morning! I think we better hit the beds," Parvati cried out.

Hermione was feeling tired as well, with all the new information about Malfoy, Neville,  
and Parvati in her head. She nodded at Parvati. "Yeah, I think we'd better get to sleep  
now."

After a couple of parting greetings, both girls returned to their own beds to catch up on  
their sleep.

As Hermione snuggled into her bed minutes later, her head was filled with thoughts of  
Malfoy, Neville, and Parvati. Then her eyes slowly closed, and her mind went blank to  
let sleep take over.

"No….no…please no. Stop! Don't…" Harry moaned in his sleep. He violently thrashed  
on his bed, gasping and groaning in what seemed to be an excruciating pain. Beads of  
sweat dotted his forehead as his face contorted into a mask of great suffering and misery.

Then suddenly, he woke up with a start. When his eyes opened, he found himself sitting  
up on his bed, panting heavily as if something heavy was pressing against his chest. He  
heard his roommates stirring a bit on their beds, but no one seemed to have woken up.  
Harry found that last bit fortunate for him at least, because he did not feel being fussed  
over and being interrogated.

His scar was almost always vaguely painful, probably because Voldemort was now fully  
reborn for a few years. But his nightmares…he had stopped having nightmares for quite a  
time now. But they were back, with a force greater than ever.

Harry then lied down flat on his back, staring at the inky blackness of the night. He was  
still breathing with great difficulty, and he realized that his whole body was trembling. The  
pain in his body was slowly ebbing away. Probably the pain was just in the dream. Yet,  
his scar felt like it was burning even now that he was awake. Suddenly, a terrible, slashing  
pain sliced through his scar. His head lolled from side to side as he tried to shake it away.  
Harry knew that it would not go away, but he had to distract himself from the unbearable  
pain he was feeling. His heart pounded crazily against his chest. He bit his lower lip to stop  
himself from crying out loud. Minutes later his tongue tasted something coppery. Blood  
oozed from his lip at the spot where he bit too hard.

Harry did not know how long he endured it all. Maybe minutes, or maybe hours. However  
long it took, it felt like an eternity.

Soon the even the pain in his scar subsided, until it felt like just a dull annoying ache. His  
breathing and heartbeat turned to normal. He was still slightly trembling when he reached  
for his wand under from under his pillow.

"Lumos," he murmured. He drew the bed curtains aside. He reached for the stand beside  
him and took his glasses. With cold clammy hands he perched them on his nose. He squinted  
at the small clock on the stand. _'It's four in the morning already',_ Harry thought. He still  
had lots of hours to sleep through, but Harry could not make himself go back to sleep yet.  
Slowly and quietly he sat up again in his bed.

He placed his wand on the stand; thus the wand light illuminated a small area of his bed. He  
reached under his bed and retrieved his backpack. He took out a roll of parchment and a quill  
form inside the bag. He would write to Sirius.

Years before, Harry had been reluctant to tell anyone about his nightmares in the fear of  
being thought of as a huge baby. But now he knew better. He now considered his dreams  
and the pain as a signal that Voldemort was just near. Harry vowed that no one else would  
die like Cedric did as long as he could help it.

Harry bit the end of his quill as he thought of what he was going to write Sirius. He absently  
stared at the white light emanating from his wand while his mind tried to remember every  
detail of his nightmare. After a few minutes, he clutched his head between his hands out of  
frustration. Nothing clear came to his mind.

He could not remember details of the nightmare, even though Harry was positive that it  
played very clearly in his mind while he was sleeping. Now that he was awake, though, all  
he remembered were just screaming, pleading, running, and crying people whose faces  
were now a blur. He also remembered chaos and ruins…but of what, he could not really  
remember.

One thing was for sure, though. It was the work of Voldemort.

But where did his dream happen? Was this a prophetic dream? What felt like panic began  
to surge through him, but he quelled that panic with the assurance that Hogwarts was safe,  
especially now that Sigurdins guarded the place. Harry focused on struggling to remember  
everything. It was crucial for him to do so.

Harry wrote everything he could recall to Sirius. Sirius was no longer in hiding after his  
name got cleared during Harry's fifth year, so now Sirius could openly help Harry, which  
made things a whole lot easier between them. As soon as the Owlery opened in the  
morning, Harry would go up there and send the letter to Sirius. He also decided to talk  
to Dumbledore immediately, probably even before breakfast. He rolled the piece of  
parchment and tucked it under his pillow. He could not leave it lying around. Not that  
Harry did not trust his roommates. It was just that someone might pick up the parchment  
and scan over it to find out whom it belonged to. Harry did not want any other person to  
know about what he feared. He did not want to cause any panic that might be  
unnecessary after all, anyway.

Harry felt sleep coming back to him as he yawned. He placed his quill on the stand and  
returned his bag to under his bed. "Finite Incantatem," he murmured. The light radiating  
from his wand immediately died out. He returned his wand back under his pillow.

Harry settled back on his bed and brought the blankets up to his chest. He fervently  
wished that he could get enough rest. He also fervently wished that nothing bad would  
happen as he slowly drifted back to what he hoped was a sound sleep.

Hermione walked down from the dormitory. It was a quarter of an hour before breakfast,  
so most Gryffindors were up already and were hanging around in the common room. Most  
people were busily talking, while some frantically crammed for their homework.

She scanned the room with her still sleepy eyes. There were brunettes and blonds, but  
she could not see the familiar mop of jet-black hair and the fiery red hair. Where were  
Ron and Harry?

"Morning, Herm," Parvati said to her from the side. Hermione turned to look and saw her  
sitting on one of the armchairs with Neville squashed in next to her.

"Morning to you both" Hermione said. She stifled a yawn. She realized that she needed a  
few more hours of sleep if she did not want yawning around all day.

"Did the bed bugs bite, Hermione? You still look a little sleepy," Neville noted good-naturedly  
as his eyes twinkled cheerfully. _'Parvati did him good,'_ Hermione thought fondly as she  
observed the pair. Parvati's hand was in Neville's. Most of the time, Hermione disliked public  
displays of affection, but it seemed that with Parvati and Neville, the displays were nothing short  
of cute and sweet.

Hermione smiled. "Yeah, I guess," she said. Parvati winked and Hermione could not help  
but laugh a little.

Hermione walked nearer to where they sat. "Hey, you've seen Ron or Harry anywhere?"  
she asked.

"Right behind you," Parvati said as she craned her neck to look over Hermione's shoulder.  
Hermione turned to look and surely, Ron was coming down from the boys' side of the  
dormitory while Ginny was walking down from the girls'.

"See you later," Hermione said to Parvati and Neville. They both nodded in acknowledgment.  
Hermione walked away and bumped into Dean.

"Oops sorry," Hermione said absently. She would have continued walking if Dean had not  
blocked her way.

Dean looked at her sternly. "Ten points from Gryffindor for not looking where you're  
going," he said. His tone and manner was perfectly like hers. It was uncanny. Then he  
laughed mischievously.

Hermione rolled her eyes. Not another one of Dean's impersonations! "Really, Dean,"  
she said. "But nice one there. I almost thought you were me," she continued with a laugh.

"I'm getting good at it!" Dean called to her as he started to walk away. She just shook  
her head while laughing. Moments later, Ron and Ginny were by her side.

"Hi Herm. What's so funny"? Ginny asked pleasantly. Ginny looked wide-awake while  
Ron looked as if he was sleepwalking. Ron walked over near the fireplace and plopped  
down on an armchair.

"Oh, it's just Dean and his impersonations," Hermione said. She looked at Ron. "Uh oh.  
He hasn't fully woken up yet," she said. She and Ginny went up to Ron. He was starting to  
doze off again when Hermione poked Ron's arm. "Hey, wake up!" she said. Ginny  
echoed her commands to Ron. He opened one eye and grunted.

"Where's Harry, by the way?" Ginny asked. Then she turned to Lavender who was also  
sitting on one of the armchairs beside Ron's. "Lavender, I'll just sit on the chair's arm. Is  
it okay with you?" Ginny asked. Lavender, who was busily finishing an essay, absently  
murmured, "Sure fine, go on."

Ginny perched on the chair's arm. "I asked you Ron, where's Harry?" she prodded while  
Hermione lightly shook his shoulders.

"Okay, okay! I'm awake!" Ron said. He straightened up in his seat. "Harry woke up a  
bit earlier than I did. He says he's going to send a letter to Sirius just to check if he's okay.  
Harry said he'll just meet us for breakfast." he said.

"Well, breakfast will be in a few minutes. C'mon let's go. I have to get coffee to wake  
myself up," Hermione urged Ron, who was yawning very widely.

"Yeah, c'mon Ron. Liesl and Mia are waiting for me at the Great Hall," Ginny said  
impatiently.

Ron grumpily stood up from the seat. Hermione and Ginny led the way to the exit with  
Ron trudging behind them. Ron could be very hard to wake up in some mornings. It  
seemed that today was one of those.

Hermione, Ginny, and Ron climbed out of the portrait hole. Once they were out in the  
corridor, Ron stretched out his arms over his head.

"Let's get going," Ginny said impatiently. She crossed her arms over her chest and gave  
her brother a very annoyed look. Hermione smiled to herself. Weasley tempers were  
really volatile.

Juts then, they saw Professor McGonagall walking down the corridor towards them.  
Moments later, she was by their side. The professor looked as she usually did. It was  
early in the morning but her hair was tied already in a tight bun, without a strand of  
out of place. However, her face looked somewhat strained today.

"There you are. I was just about to fetch you from the common room. Ronald and  
Virginia Weasley, you have to come with me to the Headmaster's office right now,"  
she said curtly. She then looked at Hermione, then back to the Weasleys. "Just the  
two of you," she continued.

Ron suddenly became wide awake and alert. "What did we do?" he asked worriedly.  
He looked at Ginny who was also surprised and confused. Ginny shrugged when she  
caught her brother's eye.

"Professor Dumbledore wishes to see you. This way," she said. She gestured at the  
two Weasleys to follow her.

Ron and Ginny had no choice. "See you at breakfast," Ginny murmured to Hermione.  
Ron nodded at her. Then they both got on their way to follow Professor McGonagall.  
Hermione was left alone at the corridor. Her sleepiness had gone, replaced by worry.  
She could not discount the fact that Professor McGonagall looked a bit stricken. But  
for now, Hermione had no idea what could be wrong. That was, if there was anything  
wrong in the first place. She walked down the corridor again. Lately, she had a lot of  
things she found herself worrying about. Maybe a good breakfast could take away all  
the nervous knots in her stomach. Of course, it seemed that she had to forego the coffee.  
She had no use for hyped nerves in her current situation.

Ron and Ginny followed Professor McGonagall. They lagged a few steps back, so they  
could talk out of the professor's earshot.

"Did you get yourself into trouble? I'm your default guardian here at school, you know,"  
Ron said as he looked suspiciously to Ginny. Ginny reddened out of annoyance.

"I haven't been in any trouble, Ron! I should be the one asking you," she retorted. Then  
her face turned serious. "You didn't go sneaking around and breaking rules again with Harry  
and Hermione, did you? Mum would—"

Ron cut her off. "I'm not in trouble," he said confidently. "Well, as far as I know," he said  
as an afterthought. Then he saw Ginny's disapproving look. "Okay, I'm perfectly sure that  
I'm not in any trouble," he said hastily.

Professor McGonagall turned around and looked at them. "Both of you, make it faster,"  
she said. Then she continued leading the way.

Ron and Ginny quickened their steps, and they walked in silence. What could be the  
reason why Dumbledore wanted to see both Weasleys? Was this a family matter? In  
Ron's mind, various scenarios formed against his will. He tried to push the thoughts  
away, but he could not help himself. After his father's death Ron had been a bit paranoid.  
Oh, he was still the practical Ron; the only difference was that a small part of him always  
expected that the worst could happen. However, he had managed to shove that part of  
himself to the back of his mind. Every now and then, though, it moved to the surface of  
his consciousness. Like now. His hands suddenly felt cold and clammy. _'Forget it Ron._  
_You're being irrational.'_ Ron scolded himself. He looked at Ginny at his side. Her face  
was serene._ 'I have to be sensible like my little sister,' _Ron tried to convince himself.

Soon they reached the familiar stone gargoyle.

"Toffee-chocolate éclair," Professor McGonagall said to the gargoyle. _'Same_  
_password the last time Harry went here,' _Ron thought to himself.

As expected, the gargoyle immediately sprung to life and moved aside to reveal the  
splitting wall behind. The three of them went inside and stepped onto a spiral staircase  
that was moving upward; as he did so, the split wall closed behind him. The staircase  
rose up in circles until it reached a polished oak door ahead. Professor McGonagall  
lifted the griffin-shaped brass-knocker and knocked on the door. It quietly opened  
and they entered the large circular room. Ron had been inside here before, and the  
furnishings were the same every time. He saw Dumbledore sitting on his high chair  
behind his desk. The Headmaster looked unusually grave.

Dumbledore nodded at Professor McGonagall. "It's going to be okay, Minerva," he  
said with a strangely strained voice. She nodded and led both Ron and Ginny nearer  
to the Headmaster's desk.

"Come sit here, both of you children", Dumbledore said gently. He motioned to the  
two seats at the front of his desk. Ginny and Ron sat and both looked expectantly at  
Dumbledore. Professor McGonagall hung back a bit and stood to the side.

"He's coming by Floo powder, isn't he?" Dumbledore asked Professor McGonagall  
in the same strained voice. Ron noticed that his bright blue eyes looked heavy and tired.  
_'What the hell is going on?'_ Ron wildly thought. Even Ginny looked uneasy.

"Yes he is," McGonagall's said in a cracked voice. Ron turned to look at her. She  
looked as if she was about to cry. That was very unusual, considering that this was  
stern and composed McGonagall that he was thinking about.

"What's going on? Who's coming?" Ron demanded to Dumbledore. The hell he cared  
now about courtesy to elders. His nerves were now positively jittering.

Dumbledore never got to answer, though, because as soon as Ron finished speaking,  
someone stumbled from the fireplace. A red head was prominent amidst the cloud of  
white dust.

"George!" Ron yelled as soon as he recognized the person. His fear suddenly melted  
away. He stood up to rush to his brother. Ginny did the same thing.

"Hey you both," George said as he affectionately rumpled their hair with each of his hands.

"Are you here for a visit? Where is Fred?" Ron asked excitedly. But Ginny was  
looking extremely worried. It was then that Ron noticed that his usually laughing  
older brother was pale and grave.

"George, there's something wrong, isn't it?" Ginny asked gently. The fear was etched  
on her face. Ron started to feel the fear build up inside him again.

George looked awfully tired and his eyes were rimmed with red. Ron wanted to ask  
him why but he found his mouth suddenly dry. A part of him did not want to find out  
why, anyway. That part preferred to be in denial.

George looked at Dumbledore. Ron followed his gaze, so he saw the Headmaster  
sorrowfully nod at George. Ron looked back in panic at his brother. George took  
in a deep shaky breath.

"Hogsmeade was attacked by Death Eaters earlier at dawn. Our shop—our shop  
was one of the first to be hit, and—and—Fred, he—he—" George said weakly, his  
voice trailing off.

Ginny looked pale as death as he clutched George's robes tightly. Ron clenched and  
unclenched his fist. "No…no…" Ron pleaded. He had a feeling what would George  
might say, but he would not tolerate that feeling. He would not. Professor McGonagall  
began sobbing quietly. _'No!'_ Ron thought wildly.

George's face contorted in what seemed to be heavy and unbearable grief. Then he  
managed to choke out, "Fred…Fred—Fred—he's—he's dead."

--

A/N: MUAHAHAH! Cliff hanger!! Thanks for reading and stay tuned!


End file.
